


Fractured Blue

by Maplesyrup



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Archaeology, Dead Languages, F/M, Frozen Rumple, Language Barrier, Spinner Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8105356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maplesyrup/pseuds/Maplesyrup
Summary: Historian and archaeologist Belle French and her team find an interesting discovery while searching the ancient caves of Northern Scotland.
Or, the formerly unnamed Woobie!Rum frozen-in-a-glacier fic.





	1. Chapter 1

“Doctor French, you have to come quick!”

Belle’s head jerked up from the laptop in front of her at the shout.  “What is it, Doctor Hopper?” She saved her research file and shut the device, turning fully to her colleague.

He beckoned, a hand outstretched and his face lit with excitement, and just a hint of concern. “Just… you have to come see.”

She grabbed her lab coat, swinging it around her shoulders and shrugging it on as she followed her bespectacled companion down the long, white corridor. Her eyes grew large and a spike of excited adrenaline shot through her chest as she saw where he was leading her.

“Archie–”

He cut her off with a shake of his head, grabbing her hand and pulling her through the door marked  _CULTURAL SUBJECT - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY._

The large room contained only two others beings; Doctor Regina Mills, medical liaison for their current excavation, and a thin, bedraggled-looking man laid out on a hospital bed and hooked up to various machines that monitored his vitals.

Regina looked up sharply as they entered. “About time you came in here.” She grabbed a chart from the end of the bed, flipping through a few pages until she found what she was looking for, and thrust it into Belle’s hands. “Look.” She tapped the MRI images on the page and Belle gasped softly.

“But— Regina, how—?”

“The oxygen levels in his brain seem to be climbing by the hour. At this rate, I’d put money on him actually waking up, and soon.”

Belle pored over the images in her hands, flipping back and forth between the heart scans, reflex test recordings, and the MRI images. She looked up at Regina helplessly. “I’m missing something.”

Regina frowned, gesturing to the charts. “This shouldn’t be possible. He’s been frozen for almost seven hundred years. His body should be tantamount to mush, let alone his brain. But… he’s basically functioning at our levels of normal.”

“What kind of ‘normal’, Regina?” Archie stepped to Belle’s side and gently took the charts from her hands, flipping through them in the same manner as she had. “Are we talking child, or adult?”

“Adult. Adult coma, to be more exact, but we won’t know that for sure until he opens his eyes. _If_ he opens them.” Regina shrugged.

“ _If_? but you said—“

“I’m a neurologist, not a psychic, Doctor French.” She took the chart back from Archie and placed it in the slot at the end of the bed. “I’m going by the evidence in front of me, but all this could change—“

A screeching alarm came from the heart monitor near the bed, and all three turned in unison. 

“Shit.” Regina spat, darting to the other side of the bed and dislodging Belle and Archie from their spots. “Shit, shit, shit, what the hell is causing this spike?” 

Belle gulped, her eyes having landed on the man in bed. “Uh, R-Regina?”

“What?” Regina snapped, still fiddling with the machine.

“You might want to turn around.”

“What the hell are you—“ She turned, and abruptly stopped talking.

The man on the bed was staring at each of them in turn, eyes wide and frightened in his gaunt face, as his chest heaved with panicked breaths.

Archie cleared his throat. “I think we found the source of the spike, Doctor Mills.”


	2. Chapter 2

They’d found him in a cave, frozen in what appeared to be ice. When they brought their tools to begin excavation, the first touch of the icepick shattered the glassy surface and the poor man trapped in it fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

Belle’s group had let out exclamations of disappointment, knowing that a specimen like that would easily suffer damage if mishandled, and falling to a cold stone floor counted as ‘mishandling’. But Belle noticed something was odd about the way he fell; he hit the floor with the looseness of a living being, which should have been impossible.

She’d rushed to his side and felt for a pulse, much to the stunned mockery of her companions. Archie had been the only one who hadn’t made fun of her. He’d crouched down next to her gently, and placed his fingers near hers on the man’s neck.

An unspoken message shot between them and Archie had raced to their satellite phone to call for a helicopter transport back to their base, where they’d monitored the man in the weeks since.

* * *

All three stared at the man as his eyes darted back and forth between them, finally settling on Belle. She held his gaze, a sudden compassion suffusing her and bringing strange tears to her eyes, and she broke eye contact to blink them away.

Severing that connection seemed to recall the man to his present state, and he started to visibly panic. He tried to tear out the IVs and pull the breathing tube from his throat. Archie and Regina restrained him as Belle grabbed a sedative and injected it into the his saline drip.

It worked to cease his thrashing, though he kept looking at Belle with a sad, drugged gaze.

“We should put him back in a coma.”

Bell whipped her head towards Regina. “Excuse me?”

“It’s the best thing; he’s seven hundred years out of time, you said it yourself. It’s best if he’s under for awhile longer.”

Belle clenched her fists in rage. “We’re not putting him into a medical coma, Regina.”

Regina scoffed, surprise written on her face. “And who do you think you are to make that call? Last I checked, you’re a Ph.D., not an M.D., so forgive me if I don’t obey your medical dictates.”  She moved to the cart of medical supplies and pulled out a syringe and bottle. “He needs to be under while we figure out what to do with him.”

Archie put a hand out to stop her as she moved back. “Doctor Mills,” he said, shooting a glance at Belle, “he saw Belle. He didn’t see us. Why not let her try with him?”

“Me?” Belle sputtered. “What could I have to offer him?”

Archie gave a crooked smile. “You’re the most brilliant historian on our team.”

“I’m the only historian on our team.”

“There you go.” Archie shrugged. “You’re best equipped to try.”

“Archie, I don’t even know what to say to him.” Belle looked at the man in the bed. He looked so frail, hooked up to the tubes and noisy machines. “He’s clearly scared as hell; I don’t know if some random stranger talking to him will make any sense. I don’t even know if we speak the same language!”

Regina snorted. “Scottish is English, Belle.”

“Yeah, but dialects and vernacular were very different seven hundred years ago.” Belle felt a thread of panic wind through her and raised wide eyes to Archie. “I don’t want to make things worse.”

Archie took her by the shoulders, leading her away from Regina. “Hey, Belle, it’s ok. Really. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I just thought he might respond best to you for the time being.” It was Archie’s turn to look at the man. “Maybe I was imagining it. I thought you connected for a moment, but I could have been seeing what I wished to see.”

Belle shook her head. “No, you’re not wrong. I—something was there when we stared at each other. It was strange, but I think—I fear you might be right.” She sighed. “Alright. If I’m going to do this, I need to get a few things.”

She pulled away from Archie and left the room, walking back to her area of their building. She scanned her bookshelves and pulled out a few volumes on the history of Scotland, the Wars, and the evolution of Gaelic and English in Scotland through the years.

Arms overloaded, she trekked back to the lab, nearly dropping her cargo as she struggled with the door.

She dumped the books on a table, and grabbed one on dialects of the Highlands. “You guys need to give me some space for this.”

“Absolutely not.” Regina crossed her arms. “It’s not like you’re doing magic, you’re trying to talk to a sentient meat-popsicle.”

Something pinged in Belle’s mind at Regina’s words, but she filed it for later. Right now, her job was to make some sort of sense for this poor, far-flung man to grasp.

“Can we remove his breathing tube? I don’t think he needs it anymore.”

Regina heaved a world-weary sigh, but obeyed once she saw the man had fallen under a drugged sleep.

“Looks like you have to wait for him to wake up. Hopefully he doesn’t freak out again.”

Belle pulled a rolling stool near the side of the bed and plopped down on it, cracking open her book. “He won’t.”

“How do you know? What if he gets violent, tries to hurt you, or himself? What then?”

Belle shook her head. “He won’t. I just— I know he won’t.”

“Fine. But take this anyway.” Regina dug through another nearby medical cart, and thrust a capped scalpel at Belle. “If he attacks, you’ll have some way to defend yourself before we get here.”

Belle took the instrument, and frowned. The man looked weak as a kitten; she doubted she’d need the thing, but she kept it to appease her colleague. Regina might bluster something fierce, but under the prickly exterior was a heart bigger than she’d prefer people knew.

She patted Belle on the shoulder and jerked her head at Archie, a signal for them to leave. Archie followed, turning back to glance at Belle with a small smile on his face before he shut the door.

All that was left to do was wait.


	3. Chapter 3

Bell had begun dozing, her chin propped on her hand, and jerked awake when her chin hit her chest. She looked at the man, who appeared to be sleeping still, and rubbed her eyes. Her back popped a few times as she stretched to get rid of the lingering drowsiness, and she pulled herself up and off the stool, grabbing her book and moving back to the table and the rest of her research sources.

She shoved the Highland dialect book to the side, having found nothing she thought useful before she’d nodded off for a bit, and grabbed a larger one on the wars instead. She brought it back to where the man lay, still sleeping, and laid it flat on the bedside table, pulling the stool closer so she could read. She flipped through to genealogy chart roughly in the middle, and began poring over the royal connections that led to the wars.

Scanning the pages and sorting through the information pulled her in, and she was fully absorbed in no time. Too absorbed to notice the movement near her on the bed.

She’d flipped to another chart near the back and was scanning when she felt a thin arm snake around her neck, and cool, sharp steel press against her throat.

She jerked in fright, and the blade nicked her the tiniest bit. She bit back a scream as a hand grasped a fistful of her hair from behind, jerking her back towards the bed, an unfamiliar voice growling in her ear in a language she didn’t understand.

She took as deep a breath as she dared, half-draped backwards over the bed with a surprisingly strong grip keeping her in place. She felt the blade press closer as she swallowed convulsively.

It was the man. He’d apparently woken up at some point, and found the scalpel she’d forgotten about and must have dropped when she’d fallen asleep. She tried to calm her panicking mind, praying Archie and Regina didn’t choose that moment to come back. She needed to handle this on her own or Regina would knock him right back into a coma, this time without drugs.

She reasoned with herself. He was just scared. Scared people acted on instinct, and he saw a chance and took it. She’d admire the bravery, if she didn’t have a very sharp medical instrument at her throat.

How the hell was she getting out of this?

“I don’t want to hurt you.” She tried to keep her voice calm and soothing, hoping that if her words weren’t understood, her tone would be. “I want to help.”

The man jerked her head further back, and she began to slip off the stool, causing the blade to sink deeper into her skin and slice her open. 

She cried out and was suddenly released to fall unceremoniously on the floor. She scrambled up towards the medical cart, accidentally knocking it over and sending the contents spilling in her haste to find something to stop the flow of blood she could feel coursing down her neck.

The door burst open and a worried-looking Archie and Regina ran inside. Regina shot over to Belle, scooping up a gauze pack and ripping it open to press against the wound as Archie moved to the man.

“A-archie, don’t— don’t hurt him! He’s only frightened!” Belle was beginning to feel woozy, the adrenaline and blood loss taking a toll on her senses. She felt a sting in the side of her neck and let out a hiss of pain, turning to see Regina tossing away a syringe.

“I have to stitch you, Belle, and fast. He nicked you pretty badly, but at least he got the wrong side. Lay down.” 

She helped Belle to the floor and turned her head to better see. Belle lay still, suddenly exhausted, and let Regina do her work.

* * *

He hadn’t meant for her to get hurt. 

He’d woken in a strange place, with strange people speaking a strange language, and instinct had blinded him.

He’d made her bleed, made her as scared as he, but the others had come in to help her, saints be praised. The raven-haired woman was tending to the wound he gave her, and the man with hair like fall leaves approached him, hands carefully outstretched. He’d looked at his own hands and seen the blood,  _her_  blood, covering his fingers and the blade he’d used to hurt her.

He’d dropped the thing like it was made of hellfire, and furiously scrubbed his hand against the bed. He’d tried to say he was sorry, so sorry, he didn’t mean it, he was only afraid, but none of them understood. He’d shrunk down in the bed, curling in on himself and sobbing, the metallic stench of her blood filling his nostrils and making him ill.

Guilt wracked his body and he let out a whimper as he watched the kind woman on the floor laying limp and pale as the other one finished. He made no objections when the man and woman swapped places and the black-haired woman thrust his wrist through metal shackles on either side of the bed, snapping them tightly into place before moving away. 

He reached for the edge of her clean, white robe as she passed, and stuttered out another sobbed apology, but she ripped the robe out of his grasp, rounding on him with a snarling string of words he couldn’t make sense of, but the anger came through as she pointed at the other woman on the floor, being protected by the fire-haired man.

He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He was just scared.

Where was Bae?


	4. Chapter 4

Once the man had been handcuffed to the bed, Regina and Archie helped Belle from the floor and back to her room. Belle hung on Regina, who brushed off Archie’s offer to help with a terse, “I’ve got this, Jiminy. Just bring more gauze and tape to her room.”

Archie frowned at her use of his nickname, but let them make their way down the hall alone and went to do as told.

Once in Belle’s personal quarters, Regina none-to-gracefully deposited her onto the bed and proceeded to help her out of her bloodstained lab coat and clothes, and into a set of pajamas. Belle felt a bit like a child, but was content to let Regina fuss for the moment. 

When she’d finished, Belle slumped down to the bed on her uninjured side, grunting at the ache in her neck; the drugs Regina had given her were wearing off faster than Belle would like. She registered Archie entering with the supplies Regina asked for, and tried for a smile when he sat in her desk chair.

Rolling to her back, she contemplated the ceiling.

“Well, shit,” she muttered. “What do we do now?”

“Keep his ass handcuffed, and preferably drugged, and get a fucking detail in here to monitor him.” Belle turned her head to regard Regina where she stood near the dresser, as she snipped gauze into smaller squares before placing them in a pile.

“I don’t want him drugged, Regina. I told you, he was just scared. I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

Regina let out a frustrated huff and glared at her. “Belle— he sliced your neck open! Whether he meant it or not, it happened, so you might want to shove that Disney-level denial to the back.” She gestured with the scissors for emphasis before returning to cutting the gauze like it had personally insulted her.

Archie cleared his throat, as was his habit to enter a conversation. “If there was some way to try and communicate with him, to— to maybe see what’s going on in his head—“

“Killing our friend is what was in his head,” Regina interrupted, turning her glare to him. “Or did you miss the part where we found her literally covered in her own blood?” 

Belle smiled in spite of herself; it was rare to hear Regina speak of them as friends and she always liked it when she slipped and said it. But her smile fell as she thought about the man.

“He wasn’t trying to kill her, Regina; I’m sure of that as Belle is.” Archie’s voice was gentle, but firm. “I saw his reaction right after you got to her; he was horrified, and he kept repeating the same few words over and over. I think he was trying to apologize.”

“We need a linguist. Specifically one that specializes in old and dead languages.”

Archie and Regina looked to Belle as she pushed herself up and leaned back against the headboard of her bed. “Do we know anyone who would trek up her? Can we add a line to the budget for an extra person?”

“Not without raising questions as to why we need a linguist. We’re in north Scotland, not aboriginal New Guinea.”

“But do we know anyone?”

Regina sighed. “Yes. I know someone. He’s a… former associate of mine; he’d probably love the chance to use the PhD that’s no doubt gathering dust in his apartment.”

Belle quirked an eyebrow. There was more to that story than Regina was telling. She nodded. “Great, call him, and tell him to book the first flight here.”

“Belle—“

She waved her hands. “It’s ok, I’ll pay for it myself. You’re right; we really don’t need anyone poking in where they are sorely not needed. Especially now. So, if this guy is good, we need to get him here.”

Regina put her supplies down, drumming her fingers on the dresser for a moment before nodding. “Ok. I’ll call him.” She walked out, leaving Archie and Belle alone.

“I’m really worried about him, Archie.”

Archie shifted in his seat. “I know. I am, too. It’s a great shock in both directions.”

Belle nodded. “But we have the advantage of hundreds of extra years of technology. How the hell do we bring him up to speed? Where do we start?”

Archie frowned looking down as his hands in contemplation. “I think we need to wait for Regina’s friend, and see if he can even talk to the man before we think too far ahead.”

“His travel could take days, depending on where he is. What do we do until then? Leave him chained up like an animal? We at least need to feed him.” Belle fidgeted, agitation buzzing under her skin.

“I don’t think it’s wise for you to be near him, Belle.”

She looked at Archie in exasperation. “You can’t be serious. I don’t subscribe to Regina’s theory that I’m not taking this seriously. I was the one he attacked, but you said so yourself he wasn’t trying to hurt me!”

Archie frowned at her. “No, I said he wasn’t trying to kill you. He might have wanted to hurt you to try and get away, but wasn’t aware of how badly it might happen with a scalpel.” Archie shook his head. “I think it’s best for now that Regina or I see to him, and you keep your distance.”

The agitation simmering in Belle’s veins turned to outright anger. How dare he?

She scooted off the bed. “Not a chance.” 

Yanking open the door, oblivious to the fact that she was barefoot and still in pajamas, she stormed down the hall back to the medical lab.


	5. Chapter 5

Her indignant rage faded fast when she reached the door, leaving behind a tingle of uncertainty. What did she think she was going to accomplish by seeing him? They couldn’t communicate, as far as she knew, though she was hoping Regina’s friend could help with that. But his arrival could take awhile, so what would they do in the meantime?

She fidgeted with her fingers, lacing and unlacing them as she tried to think of a plausible reason to go in there besides to gawp at the strange man who accidentally almost killed her.

An idea struck her, and she whipped around towards the direction of the kitchens. They did need to feed him, after all, though she didn’t have a clue what he might like.

She walked quickly to the kitchen, making a beeline for the shared pantry. Pulling open the doors, she scanned the shelves in front of her, trying to think what she’d like if someone pulled her out of time and plopped her somewhere new.

She chewed her lower lip. She’d probably want something sweet, like cake. Or maybe something like mac-n-cheese, or pasta alfredo; comfort foods to send her into a carb-haze and lull her into accepting that she was royally fucked.

Her eyes landed on the instant oatmeal. Yes, perfect. She’d bring him a hot bowl of oatmeal. Maybe with milk and syrup, or would his system even be able to handle those things? What if they made him sick, and then—

She shook her head. No sense in getting ahead of herself. Oatmeal was fine, maybe just a bit of cinnamon and a sprinkle of raw sugar. And tea. Hot oatmeal and hot tea would go a long way, she was sure of it.

She prepared the food and found a small tray to carry everything, and made her way back towards the lab. Regina and Archie were outside the door when she arrived, interrupting what looked to be a hushed but heated discussion, and they turned to her in surprise.

She lifted the tray a bit. “It’s for him.” She jerked her chin towards the door.

“You’re going to feed the man who tried to kill you? Are you crazy?” Regina reached for the food, but Belle swung it away. “Come on, Belle, you are not going in there!”

“Did you call your friend?” She kept her voice calm, despite her brimming frustration.

Regina stopped, and pulled herself back. “Yes,” she said, tugging at her lab coat. “He also declined your offer to pay for his flights, stubborn man. He’s taking the next flight out and should be here by morning.”

Belle’s jaw dropped. “He agreed, just like that?”

Regina pursed her lips. “Yes.”

“Wow.”

“Like I said, he’s stubborn, and his degree is gathering dust. He’ll probably relish being called ‘Doctor Humbert’ again by people who aren’t students.” There was an edge to her dry words, and Belle wondered for the second time what exactly this man meant to Regina.

She sighed. “I need to get this in there before it gets cold.” She gave a nervous chuckle. “Nothing worse than cold oatmeal.”

“I can think of a few things.”

Archie had been curiously quiet, merely observing their exchange, but reached around Regina to open the door. “Here, Belle. But please, keep the door open? Unless you plan to feed him yourself, of course.”

“Um, no. I think I’ll let him do that.” She looked to Regina. “I’ll need the keys, though.”

“Absolutely not. I’ll unlock him, and I’ll be staying.”

“Regina—“

“No. I’m not giving in on this.”

Belle ground her teeth, closing her eyes and praying for patience. “Fine. But stay on the other side of the room.”

Regina huffed indignantly. “Fine.” She gestured to the open door. “After you.”

Belle entered cautiously, her eyes immediately going to the bed and the miserable-looking man in it. His arms were apart, each one manacled to a guard rail, and she noticed his hand stained with blood, her blood, was held at an odd angle; as if he didn’t want the fingers to touch.

She walked steadily over, trying not to startle him. His eyes tracked her movements, though most of his face was turned away from her. The sorrow and fear on what she could see of his face made her breath catch.

“I brought you something to eat.” She held the tray up. He still didn’t seem to understand her words, but she felt silly just being silent.

She set the tray down, and looked over her shoulder for Regina, who moved to them brusquely, keys jangling in her hands.

“You sure you want both unlocked?” She said, regarding Belle from the other side of the bed.   
The man in between them visibly stiffened, his chest rising and falling with what were no doubt panicked breaths.

“Yes, please.” Belle looked back to him, feeling a surge of pity at his distress, and watched confusion steal across his face when his wrists were freed.

“I’ll be over there if you need me,” Regina said, pointing rather obviously to the section at the back of the room that held the surgical equipment.

Belle nodded and Regina moved away.

Belle smiled, a little tremulously, but genuine as the man regarded her. His eyes roved over her face, and settled on her neck. Specifically the gauze, and his hand came up to touch his own throat. He shook his head, his face crumpling, and pushed himself up and as far away from her as he could while remaining on the bed.

He pulled his knees up and into his chest, ducking his head and seemingly tried to make himself as small as possible.

Belle grabbed the soothingly-warm bowl of oatmeal, at a loss for something else to do, and held it out to him. He stared at it, unmoving.

“It’s ok, it’s for you. I’m not the best cook, but I can make oatmeal.” She gave a self-deprecating little chuckle and his startled eyes shot to her face.  
 Despite his obvious trepidation, it was easy to see the kindness in his warm brown irises. They weren’t the eyes of a man used to hurting people to get his way. They were… sweet. Belle would even call them puppy-like.

Going entirely with her gut, she scooted the tiniest bit closer, and held the bowl further out. “If you don’t eat it now, it’s going to get cold, and that’s just gross.” She smiled. “Of course, I’d make you more if that happened, but then I’d have to leave, and Regina would want to lock you back up.”

The man watched her speak, and Belle thought she saw a teeny spark of recognition in his eyes. He reached out slowly, his hand trembling, and accepted the bowl from her. She felt a surge of triumph and beamed. “I hope you enjoy it. “I have tea for you, too, if you want it.” She said, pointing to the tray. “It’s just your basic black blend, more for convenience than anything, but I can make something else if you don’t like it—“

She cut herself off, feeling foolish for blathering on at someone who had no idea what she was even talking about. She sighed, looking over her shoulder again.  “Regina, could you bring me something to wash his hand?”

Regina scoffed. “He can’t wash it himself?”

Belle frowned. “Well of course he can, I just… I thought that touch would, you know, help.” She finished lamely, feeling more ridiculous than before.

She heard Regina sigh before she pulled out a small basin, filling it with warm water and tossing in a washcloth and a small bar of soap. She brought it over, giving the man a look as she reached the bed. He blanched, spoon halfway to his mouth and trembling in his grasp.

“Stop scaring him.” Belle scowled, taking the basin impatiently, making the water slosh around inside.

Regina gave a small harrumph and stalked back to the instrument table.

Belle put the basin on the bedside table to let the hot water inside cool a bit and turned to see the man still staring after Regina with something like fearful awe on his face, spoon still poised in front of his open lips.

She reached out to touch him gently, and he started, dropping the spoon into the bowl. 

“It’s ok; Regina’s all bark and almost no bite.” She patted his shoulder a bit awkwardly, hoping he understood somehow, and was heartened when he picked up the spoon again and finally began to eat.

She had to bite back a giggle at the look on his face when he took the first bite. He looked like someone gave him heaven in a bowl, and he began to eat with greater gusto than she’d hoped. Well, seven hundred years would give anyone an appetite.


	6. Chapter 6

He didn’t understand it.

She was sitting with him. She brought him food, good food, sweet and hearty and warm. And what looked to be soap and water. And whatever was in that odd-looking cup, something that smelled the tiniest bit familiar.

He didn’t understand it and he didn’t want to trust it, but she looked at him, she touched him and didn’t seem frightened. And her eyes were so very blue.

He’d wanted to run when the other woman removed the shackles. She was a fearful thing to behold, with her dark hair and scowling face. He thought she might strike him, but no blow came. Only the one he’d hurt offering him the comfort of food and her presence.

He should be bowing, begging for forgiveness, and it had been his intent. But she’d thrust a bowl at him, and smiled kindly and he was lost to rational thought. He’d taken the bowl, mesmerized by her, and wished to the Lord above that he could understand what she was saying. Her voice was so lovely.

She’d scowled at the frightening woman and he felt awe that such a tiny thing as her would stand up to someone like that without fear. He wondered what that was like, to have such courage.

His heart clenched painfully. He’d still not seen his boy yet, and instinct was telling him something was very wrong. He’d never wished for anything as much as he wished to be able to communicate with the kind woman long enough to ask if she knew where his son was.

But he kept eating. Despite the panicked longing for his boy, he was too afraid to put his faith in them, despite her kindness. He could only close his eyes and send a fervent prayer that wherever he was, his boy was safe.

* * *

Belle took his bowl the moment he finished, and pressed the cup of tea into his hands. He gave her another vaguely startled look, and she began to wonder if it was his default expression.

He wrapped his hands around the warm ceramic, seeming to enjoy the feel of it under his fingers, and gave it a cautious sniff, followed by a large sip. He gave a little hum in the back of his throat, and Belle smiled. 

“Good?” She said gesturing to the cup.

He looked up, offering her a small, crooked quirk of his lips before lowering his gaze again. He mumbled something she chose to take as assent that yes, the tea was good, despite that she knew it wasn’t the best.

Something about him triggered her protective instincts. She wanted to fatten him up a little, take care of him, and it was hard to reconcile that feeling with the knowledge that she had a two-inch gash in her neck made by him.

 Logically, she knew Regina was right; she should keep her distance until Doctor Humbert arrived and could try and talk with him.

But she couldn’t just sit back and wait. She felt… responsible for him. Drawn to him, for whatever reason. It was strange, and alarming, but she wasn’t one to back down in fear.  
  
He drained the last of the tea, and she took the cup from his hands. Their fingers brushed for a brief second, and his face turned red underneath his tanned skin. He ducked his head lower, his long hair dropped like a curtain to hide his face.

Belle watched him, bemused for a moment before remembering her other task, and she reached for the basin. She settled it between them on the bed and gently took the hand with her dried blood on it.

This time, he jerked fully out of her grasp, the calm of before forgotten as he tried to scramble back further into the pillows.

He shook his head vehemently, staring at her with that wild, scared look and stuttering words at her. His expression grew desperate, and she heard Regina’s pounding steps as she hurried over to the bed. She grabbed the handcuffs, preparing to restrain him again, and Belle lost it.

She shot up and reached over the bed, snatching the cuffs and keys out of Regina’s hands and tossing them somewhere behind her.

“Goddamn it, Regina, I do not want him locked up anymore!” She unlocked the other set of cuffs from her side of the bed and threw them to join the others, not caring, just wanting it all away from her.

Regina pinned her with an angry stare, but yelled towards the door. “Archie! Get your ass in here and talk some sense into Belle!”

He came in through the door a few seconds later, looking harried and carrying one of his own books. “Regina? Belle? What’s going on here? I’m in the middle of my own research.” He hurried to the bed, his gaze on the man. “Whatever it is, I think you’re doing a number on our guest here.”

Both women broke their hostile eye contact and glanced down. Sure enough, the man was cowering beneath them, though he’d managed to scoot slightly closer to Belle, who took that with a surge of triumph. As far as she was concerned, this man was  _hers_.

The realization came as a shock, and her eyes shot to Archie. He caught her look, searching her gaze for a moment before seeming to grasp that she was in some kind of turmoil, and turned to Regina with an uncharacteristically thunderous look. 

“Regina, you need to leave. Please.” Regina sputtered heatedly, but Archie held up a hand. “No, I mean it. You need to leave Bell and I alone for the moment. One of us will get you if you’re needed.”

He gestured to the door, and with a frustrated growl, she preceded him. Belle watched them exchange a few more heated words at the door before Regina shot a look over his shoulder at her. She was worried, and Belle could appreciate it, but her way of doing things wasn’t working for them right now.

Belle sat back down on the bed gingerly, watching the man for any sign that her presence was unwelcome. He stared at her like she was some otherworldly thing, and to him, she probably was, but he didn’t move away.

“I’m so sorry that happened.” Belle tried for a reassuring smile, but it felt broken on her face. “Regina is just… really protective of things sometimes, and after what— what happened, she’s really got her back up.”

The man still just stared at her, but she could see him marginally relax, and would swear some of this was getting through the language barrier.

Belle gestured to his hand. “I’d really like to clean the blood off of you, if you’ll let me.” She pointed to the basin, and his eyes followed her movements. 

He seemed to get her meaning, and after closing his eyes in what looked like pain, reluctantly gave her his hand, palm up. A universal sign that he wasn’t a threat, and she was so oddly touched at the gesture that she had to busy herself with fussing with the water so he didn’t see her tear up.

When she’d mastered herself once more, she took his hand gently, and submerged it in the still-warm water. She massaged a bit of soap into her hand and lifted his out of the water to work the blood off his palm and fingers.

He kept very still, but she could see the faint, quick jump of his pulse in his thin wrist. She worried she was making him uneasy, and tried to hurry it along.

Archie had made his way over at some point, and cleared his throat to announce his presence. Belle lifted her head from her task to look at him, and smiled. “Hi. Want to come sit with us?”

Archie smiled back, and gave one to the man, in turn. He gestured to a chair off to the side, then back to the bed. “Do you mind if I sit with you?” He directed his words to the man, who looked surprised, but nodded, gesturing to the chair and beckoning gently with his free hand.

Archie’s grin widened. “Thank you.” He retrieved the chair as Belle was finishing with the man’s hand, patting it dry with the washcloth.

“There; all better.” She smiled and impulsively gave his hand a little squeeze, but immediately felt irritated with herself. He wasn’t a child; if someone had spoken to her like that, she’d have felt insulted.

But to her shock, he squeezed back, however hesitantly. Just a small press of his fingers, and he looked at her with shy gratitude, and remorse.

She took her hand away, and collected the supplies to deposit them back at the sink. She heard Archie chuckle as she walked away, and turned over her shoulder to see what made him laugh.

He was scrubbing a hand gently through his hair, tousling the auburn curls as the man gestured to his own longer locks and said something that she could have sworn was a gentle tease.

“No redheads where you’re from, I take it?” Archie grinned at him. “Not a lot where I’m from either, sadly. Unfortunately, ginger isn’t the best hair color to possess when you don’t like to stand out.”

Belle smiled, hope blooming in her chest. Despite the language barrier, they were making something of a go of it.

Maybe once Doctor Humbert arrived, this would all start to be ok.


	7. Chapter 7

Doctor Graham Humbert was a tall man, taller than Belle had anticipated, but she was the shortest person wherever she went, so it wasn’t too great a surprise. He had a soft voice, his words gently bent with an Irish lilt, and a friendly, open face.

He also was a ridiculously credentialed expert in the history of the languages of the British Isles, specifically Ireland and Scotland. He’d entered their space with easy confidence, and Belle had liked him immediately.

He was also very clearly in love with Regina.

Belle watched the two of them when he first arrived, and took particular note of the soft way Doctor Humbert had looked at her spiky colleague. It clearly wasn’t a new kind of love, and Belle felt a frisson of excitement that she’d been right, there was something between them, or at least there had been at one point. 

 Regina for her part was aiming for a detached indifference, but was fooling none of them. It made Belle giggle behind her hand and nudge Archie in the side as Regina was showing Doctor Humbert around. He gently put his hand on her lower back to let her precede him, a warm smile on his mouth despite her slight scowl.

Oh, there was totally something there, and when the time was right, Belle was going to get Regina good and drunk and drag it out of her. 

But for the time being, they had something more important to take care of, and that was ascertaining whether or not Doctor Humbert could actually speak to the man.

Belle had checked on him earlier that morning, pulling back the blinds on the widows to let a bit of natural light into the room. She wondered what he made of the harsh glare of the fluorescents. He didn’t seem bothered by them, but what did she know? They weren’t exactly effectively communicating.

She’d watched him sleep for a moment, his curled form and slightly furrowed brow making her want to steal him away to her room and cuddle him to her. Her bed was bigger, and definitely more comfortable—

She shook her head to disperse the memory. This was getting ridiculous. It wasn’t fair or safe to have such an interest in their— their subject. She needed to think of him like that. He was their cultural subject, and an opportunity to interact with living history. He was just a man out of his time and they had a job to do. 

She needed to keep her distance.

Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she met Doctor Humbert’s outstretched hand with her own and shook it. 

“Welcome, Doctor Humbert. I’m so glad you could join us on such short notice and for such a… particular situation.”

He waved a hand, unfazed, like he spoke with ancient peoples all day long. “Please, it was no trouble. And call me Graham.” He smiled wryly. “No one calls me ‘doctor’ anymore. Well, except Regina.” He tossed a small, intimate grin to Regina, who ignored it. “Well, is the guest awake?”

Belle nodded. “Yes, he’s just had breakfast. I can take you to see him now, if you’d like?”

Graham nodded. “I would, yes.” 

“Then please follow me.”

They made their way down the hall, Belle and Graham in the lead, with Regina and Archie trailing them.

“Am I correct that you’ve not been able to verbally communicate effectively with him?” Graham tucked his hands into the pocket of his jeans as they walked, meandering next to Belle with a relaxed air. He cut a handsome figure in his black suit jacket paired with Levi’s, the cuffs of his white linen shirt peeking out of the ends of his sleeves. Belle wondered what the man would look like dressed so, and had to hide her face for the blush the pleasurable thought caused.

“Um, y-yes, that’s correct. We— Archie and I —we sat with him for a bit yesterday and talked.” She frowned. “Is that strange? He obviously didn’t understand our words, but he wasn’t visibly agitated.”

“On the contrary,” Archie interjected from behind them. “He seemed quite relaxed to me. Almost content.” He chuckled. “He even made what I assume was an observation about the color of my hair.”

Graham smiled. “I’m glad to see he’s not too frightened to reach out.” His face turned a bit somber as they reached the room. “I have to warn you all, though: if this works, he’s going to need to be told what happened, and if I’m the one to do it, you’ll have to be very honest with me.”

Belle nodded. “Of course. I think between the four of us, we can find a way to try and make this as easy as possible for my— our guest. We know he’s from this area of Scotland; we found him in a local cave. I assume Regina told you about that?”

“Yes, I did.” Regina answered from behind them in a clipped tone.

“Great. Ok, so, he doesn’t appear to speak anything close to modern English, of course. But he was in that weird stasis-ice for about seven hundred years.”

“I remember Regina mentioning that. It’s actually a good place to start, historically. I have a few ideas that I can try.” Graham nodded. “I’d like to see him now, if that’s alright?”

“Yes, just let me go in first, and… I guess, try to warn him somehow. I don’t know how he’ll do with a new person.”

“Of course.”

Belle slipped inside the room, seeing the man looking out the window over the long stretch of green hills behinds their headquarters. He didn’t glance to her as she approached, and when she was close enough, she could see his face was rather wistful.

She frowned, suddenly worried that he felt like a prisoner. She’d have to ask Graham to ask him for her, assuming it all worked out and a new person didn’t scare him. She had so many questions, and Graham was their best hope.

“Hi.” She said quietly, trying not to startle the man. He pulled his gaze away from the window and looked at her, one corner of his mouth quirking slightly.

“Um,” Belle began, twisting her fingers. “I brought someone to-to try and talk to you.” She took a deep breath, trying to press out her sudden nerves. “He’s a linguistics expert and we’re hoping that you speak enough of a common language so that we can start to communicate with you better.”

The man frowned as she spoke. “H-he’s very nice,” she continued. “And he came all the way here on such short notice. If it works out, we’ll be able to, like I said, communicate better and—“

“You’re repeating yourself, Belle.” Graham closed the door gently behind him as he entered the room. She turned, catching his reassuring smile as he moved towards her. “Are you ok?” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she could swear she heard a soft growl from the bed.

“No, I-I don’t think I am.” She sighed, angling herself away from the man and lowering her voice. “I’m scared, Graham. What if this doesn’t work? What if you came all this way for nothing? What if he’s stuck not understanding us for-for god knows how long?” She crossed her arms, sighing in worried frustration.

“Hey, Belle.” Graham took both her shoulders. “Relax. This will work out. Frankly, establishing a line of communication is the least of our worries, but it will be ok, I promise.”

“How do you know? Spend a lot of time talking to centuries-old defrosted people, do you?”

He chuckled at her snappish tone, releasing her shoulders and giving her a wink. “Not as much as you’d think.”

“I don’t see how you can be so calm about all this.” She gestured vaguely around her.

“Well, ‘all this’ is just a human lacking the basic ability to communicate with the other humans around him. It’s a need written into our DNA.”

“You sound like Archie. His first Master’s was in psychology and it colors his work.”

Graham quirked an eyebrow and shrugged. “Well, you don’t get this far into linguistics without realizing you need a basic foundation of  _why_  people communicate to go with the _how_. Or, at least, I couldn’t.” He smiled. “Have a little faith in this, Belle.”

She took that as her cue to exit, but glanced at the man before she left. He was watching them both with what seemed like a mixture of curiosity and— jealousy? Was she seeing that right?

She smiled at him, but spoke to Graham. “I’ll be just outside. Come get me if something goes wrong?”

“I will. But we’ll be ok.”

She nodded, and left.

* * *

Seeing the tall, scruffy man touch the lady was doing strange things to his mind. He’d never been a strong man, or a hostile man, but watching another male around her was driving him a bit insane. He didn’t care to look too closely at it. Besides, she didn’t return the bearded man’s touches, so that was something.

He’d been gazing out the window when she came in, thinking about his farm back home, wondering about the sheep… and his boy. 

Surely Bae was with a neighbor; maybe Morraine’s family invited him in for supper. He’d been plucked off the village roads many a time by her father after playing too long into the darkness and worrying his own papa. 

It was hard to traipse through town after his boy with his ankle twisted the way it was, and Morraine’s family had always been kind to take Bae home when necessary.

But when the lady had spoken, something had seemed… off. Like she was nervous. Or scared. He’d grown used to the timbre of her voice in such a short time, and he was getting good, he felt, at judging the tones she used. She didn’t hide her feelings easily, this one. 

He’d suddenly wanted to pull her close and tuck her into the bed with him, and soothe whatever worries she had.

The man patted her shoulders and said something that made her smile a bit before leaving the two men alone together.

He’d pulled himself up in the bed; life had taught him that not every kind face came with a kind heart, especially where other men were concerned, so he was wary. Especially without a way to defend himself, should the need arise.

But the man merely pulled up a chair near the bed, and sat, extending a hand and what seemed to be a genuine smile. He spoke in a different language than he’d used to talk to the lady, but it was hard to make out. Sounded a bit familiar, though, and he wondered who this bearded man was.

The man pointed to himself, and said a single word that must have been his name, before extending his hand again.

“Graham.”

He mulled that over for a moment before extending his own hand cautiously, still wary of the stranger. They clasped forearms in a tentative mutual greeting, and he gave his own name in return.

“Rumplestiltskin.”


	8. Chapter 8

Belle paced back and forth in front of the door, chewing her lip. Graham had been in there for a little while, and while she hadn’t heard yelling, or the sound of anything hitting a wall, she was still fidgeting outside the door, awash in nervousness.

She stopped pacing. Maybe she could just take a peek; what harm could a little look do? She reached for the door handle.

“Belle.”

She froze, a blush heating her cheeks. She turned around to see Archie giving her a wry look, his arms folded across his chest.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” She shrugged. “Just… waiting.”

“Waiting involves trying to hear a private conversation?”

“I’m not trying to eavesdrop. I’m just worried. They’ve been in there for awhile and I don’t know if it’s good or bad, or if he’s scared and needs me or—“

“Slow down.” Archie held up his hands. “Deep breath. I think we can assume progress is being made, otherwise Graham wouldn’t still be in there with him.”

She sighed, moving to Archie and dropping her forehead against his chest dramatically, his quiet, rumbling chuckle soothing despite the knowledge that he was sort of laughing at her.

“I don’t know when I started to think of him as ‘mine’.” She picked her head back up, shaking it gently. “I’m worried that’s not wise, that I’m getting too attached to him.”

“He does seem to have formed a bit of an attachment to you, as well. I’d say he’s imprinted, but that would discount his sentience.” 

Belle imagined him following her around like a confused little duck, and giggled at the image. “No, you’re right. He doesn’t have nearly enough feathers.”

Archie eyes crinkled with a warm smile. “That he doesn’t. But, it’s my responsibility to caution you. You know his circumstances. We might find a way to send him back, it wouldn’t do to become too involved if you’d just lose him in the end.”

She scrubbed her hands over her face. “I know, I know. Of course you’re right. I just—“ She sighed dropping her arms. “I can’t seem to help it.” She was pouting and she knew it, but Archie wouldn’t judge her for it. He’d let her pout and then keep using his lovely mix of friendship and counseling on her.

The door behind them cracked open a bit, and both turned, startled out of their little therapeutic bubble. Graham’s head popped out from behind the door and he smiled at them. “Belle, Archie; hi.”

Belle was instantly alert. “What’s wrong?”

Graham frowned. “Wrong? Oh, no, sorry. Nothing is wrong. Actually, everything is great. He just wants you to come in and join us.”

Belle nodded. “Of course, tell him I’ll be right in—“ She paused. “Wait. Wait, Graham, are you—?”

Graham gave them a charming little smirk. “Come in and see for yourself.”

Belle turned to Archie, too excited to speak. Her mouth worked like a landed fish, but he understood, and gave her an affectionally exasperated smile.

“Well go on then, before Graham has to use his linguistic skills on you, too.”

Belle followed Graham into the room in something of a daze, so many emotions all at once making her brain shut down for a bit to get some relief from the maelstrom. What would she say to him first? Might be good to start with her name. She realized with a jolt that in the time she’d known him, she’d never tried to communicate her name. The fog cleared and embarrassment settled in, good and thick and she could feel herself blushing again.

She stopped Graham. “Graham, I didn’t— I never tried to tell him my name. Neither did any of the others. Does he know yours?”

Graham turned over his shoulder with a smile, but moved fully to face her when he caught the look on her face. “Belle, that’s alright. It would have come eventually. And he knows it now.”

He stepped to the side, and gave her a nudge. “But I think he’ll want to hear it from you. He’s quite taken with you, you know.”

She looked up at him, startled. “He is?”

Graham nodded, and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “And I think he’s a little jealous that I’m standing here with you, if the way he cross-examined me earlier about how long I’ve known you is any indication.” He pulled back. “He’s fucking brilliant, if you’ll excuse my language. I don’t know what kind of life he had before this world interfered, but if he were born in our time, I bet he’d have done some remarkable stuff.”

Belle looked at the man, who stared back with a different kind of light in his eyes now.   “Graham, what language does he speak? Is it one I can learn?”

Graham laughed. “To the point, I like that.” He moved towards the bed, and Belle followed. “I did a bit of light research on the plane ride here. Based on where you found him, and the estimated dates, I had a few choices available to me. While the first two didn’t work as well as I’d like, the third was the charm.” 

He offered her his chair, but she declined, electing to perch on the bed near the man’s feet when he smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling as the smile reached them, and she was momentarily struck mute at the change a full smile wrought on his face.

Graham began speaking to the man, his words a bit halting and very odd, yet quite similar to the little she’d heard the man say. The real shock came when he responded, laughing, and she looked back and forth between the two of them.

“Holy shit.”

Graham translated before she could stop him. “No! Graham, damn it, don’t tell him I’m swearing.”

“Oh, trust me, he knew. I was just giving him a rough translation.” He winked at her.

Belle would have been annoyed, if she wasn’t so excited. She wanted to learn everything; every phrase, every idiom, every nuanced syntactical structure so he didn’t have to feel scared or misunderstood or alone again. She was winding up to tell all of this to Graham, when the man touched her arm and spoke to her, his brow furrowed as his lilting accent gracefully curled upwards to signify a question.

Belle stared, mesmerized at what a linguistic connection could do for a person’s confidence. Just hours before, he’d barely allowed her to touch him, and here he was, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on her wrist to get her attention.

She looked to Graham. “Um…”

He cleared his throat. “He, um… he’s asking if he may apologize, for…”

“For what—?” He pointed to her neck. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” He frowned.  “Belle, I— all of this is so fast, are you sure—“

She huffed in exasperation. “Graham, please. Everyone around me has been asking me that since he woke up. I’m not a child, I know my own mind, and I’d like to speak with my friend.”

He eyed her for a moment. “Alright.” He turned back to the man, spoke for a moment, and the man nodded, giving a few sentences in return.

“Ok, so, I’ll translate as best I can as we go, but, give me a moment and don’t throw ten-dollar words at me. Deal?” Graham held his hands out to the company, looking back and forth between them.

She smiled wryly, the momentary tension between them gone at this tiny crack in his otherwise confident demeanor. The brilliant Graham Humbert was human, after all. “Sure thing.”

“You want to start?”

She was nervous, her hands trembling a bit, and she clasped them together to stop the tremors. “I think so, yes.” She took a deep breath.

“Hi. My name is Belle French, and I’m so very happy to meet you.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone :) Sorry for the long, LONG hiatus. I lost myself there for a bit.
> 
> Anyway, here's Wonderwall.
> 
> (jk it's a new chapter. Unbeta'd)

For all it was a relief to speak and finally be understood, despite Graham’s halting speech, the worry he’d pushed down began to swell, like an over-filling dam, and each heartbeat began to echo the name of his sweet boy.

Guilt wracked Rumplestiltskin anew; what kind of a father was he to forget, even momentarily, about his only child? He was just like his own father, a bastard who—

No. No, he would not let himself go down that road. Everything he did, he did for his boy. He was a good papa, and Bae was safe. He had to be. The other option was unthinkable.

He touched Graham’s arm. “Please, where is my son?”

The light atmosphere that had briefly surrounded their talking evaporated, like mist in the sun. Graham looked at him, his expression contorted yet unreadable, and Rum watched him turn to Belle and translate.

His stomach dropped as she looked confused for a moment before bringing a hand to her mouth, her eyes growing wide.

He knew that look. Panic began clawing at his gut, climbing up to his heart and tearing a hole in which to settle. He concentrated on taking deep breaths

Belle leaned closer to Graham and whispered something hurriedly. Graham nodded, his face taking on the same look, and began to get up. He clapped a gentle hand on Rum’s shoulder, giving him a strange, fractured little smile before he walked out the door.

Rum was cut adrift; the only way he had to communicate had just walked out the door. What was going on? Was Graham going to get Bae? Had something happened?

He looked at Belle helplessly, seeing the sheen of tears in her eyes despite the smile she attempted, and he shook his head.

No, this was all just a misunderstanding. Something born of two separate languages. It would be alright, he’d see. It would be alright.

The door opened, Graham entering with a stoic-looking Archie following. The two men seated themselves, and Archie began to speak, with Graham translating as best he could.

As Rum absorbed the words, something sharp and over-bright shot through him, and his world collapsed.

 

 

When Belle was a little girl, her mother had died in a car accident, and the pain of having someone she loved ripped from her so suddenly was a blast to her soul that never fully healed. She never thought she’d see that kind of pain again.

Seeing Rumplestiltskin’s reaction to the news that he was pulled out of time, and that his poor son was long dead because of that was to watch someone’s soul pulled out of them against their will, only to be shoved back in at the wrong angle. She’d never again compare her pain to anyone else’s.

He sat stunned for a brief moment, his mouth working slightly, before the cracks came, running swiftly down his thin frame until he collapsed in on himself and let out a wail of disbelieving grief that Belle felt fill the wound in her own soul and scrape her raw anew.

He began muttering frantically as he grasped at Archie. Graham translated and Belle felt her heart crack for Rumplestiltskin.

“Send me back, please send me back, I have to… to find him.” Graham’s voice cracked and he looked away.

Belle unceremoniously pushed Archie away, and pulled the sobbing man into her arms. He clung to her and buried his face in her neck as he sobbed. She shushed him, crooning what she hoped was soothing nonsense, but he only squeezed her tighter. She rocked him lightly, some small part of her ashamed at treating him like a child, but she ignored it and focused on the distraught man clutching at her.

She looked over his head at Archie and Graham. “Just give us a minute,” she whispered.

The nodded, rising in tandem and moving to a far corner of the room, discussing something between them as they went.

“Hey,” she said, pushing Rumplestiltskin’s hair back. “I’ve got you. You just— just cry, it’s ok.” She didn’t care that he couldn't understand her words; her meaning was clear enough.

Belle started when she felt Archie touch her shoulder and raised and eyebrow at him.

“We need to get Regina.”

She shook her head, keeping her hold on the man. “Are you crazy?” She whispered fervently. “That’s the last thing we need!”

“Belle… she’s technically the highest ranking person on this team. She needs to know.”

Belle sighed, pressing her cheek to Rumple’s head and running a hand over his back. “Fine. Tell her. But so help me god, Archie, if she comes in here with some stupid idea of drugging him through this I’ll…” Belle trailed off, suddenly exhausted. “Just… go get her.” Archie nodded, and slipped out the door.

What the fuck were they going to do now?

* * *

Regina entered the room quietly, gently shutting the door behind her. 

“So. He knows.”

“Yes.” Rumple had quieted somewhat and allowed Belle to tuck him in like a child. She tugged the covers up around his shoulders, her heart clenching at the sad, vacant look in his eyes.

Regina stopped a few feet away from the bed. “I’m… tell him I’m sorry.”

“I will, thank you.”

Regina nodded. “Belle, I—“ she cut herself off, sighing in what seemed like frustration. “There was no one else in the cave.” Her voice was strained. “The only other thing found was a walking stick.”

“I know.”

Regina huffed, turning away. “I don’t do this part of—of this.”

Belle stood, smoothing a hand over Rumple’s shoulder before turning to Regina. “Well, you needed to know. You’re technically the head of this dig.”   
  
“Yes, well. I don’t have the same rapport that you’ve apparently managed to create in a very short amount of time, so perhaps this once…” She paused, clenching her jaw. “Perhaps this once, I could let you take the lead.”

Belle’s eyes grew wide in disbelief and Regina frowned. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not a complete monster.” She flicked a deliberately careless hand. “And besides, don’t you have contacts back in Boston who study weird things like the intersectionality of wars and religion, or whatever it is?” She shrugged. “Might come in handy when dealing with a man who was likely smack in the middle of both. I'm surprised your agile mind didn't immediately jump to that.”

Belle frowned, her mind rifling through the scientists she knew back in the states. She moved, leading them both away from the bed. “Well, yes. I suppose I could ask.”

“And now that we can communicate, however rudimentary, the next step is trying to get him to acclimate to this world.” Regina rolled her shoulders back, glad to have a surmountable goal. “So, you contact these friends of yours, see if we can at least Skype with one of them if we can’t get them here.”

Belle nodded. “I’ll do that. I just—need to make sure Rumple’s settled first. As much as he can be.”

Regina raised an eyebrow. “Rumple? That’s his name?”

Belle glanced back to the bed, her gaze full of sympathy. “It’s short for Rumplestiltskin.”

Regina pressed her lips together, trying and failing to hide a snort of laughter. Belle frowned. “Don’t be an ass, Regina.”

* * *

Dead. 

His boy. His bright, beautiful Baelfire. They said he was dead.

He curled in on himself in the bed, trying to contain the grief and confusion that threatened to tear him apart.

They said he’d been pulled from his own time. But how? And what did that even mean? Could they put him back?

He was in a strange place, with strange people; scared and completely, utterly alone. Not even Belle’s touch could comfort him after what he’d been told.

He racked his pained mind, trying to remember the last thing he did before he woke up in this strange place. He could only recall a darkening sky, with noise like the worst of thunderstorms rolling over the hills where he normally let his sheep graze—

Flashes of memory shot through his brain; the bleating of his flock in fear of the violence of the oncoming storm; their frightened scattering at the first flash of that peculiar lightening, his mad, hobbled dash to some sort of shelter and then… then he woke up in this place.

He frowned, lost to the resurfacing memories as they knitted themselves back together. 

Bae had been safe, with Morraine and her family that day. He remembered it clearly. Bae had not been feeling well and the girl’s mother had offered to look after him while Rumplestiltskin tended the sheep. He’d promised a skein of his finest wool for her use in the coming winter to pay her for all the trouble she took over his boy.

Rumplestiltskin shifted in the bed. The memory of seeing a cave, outlined by a flash of lightening and looking like an answered prayer, came to him. He’d taken a moment to watch the sky, silently beseeching God to let his flock survive the storm, when a particularly loud clap of thunder startled him, echoing around the cave and he stumbled backwards into the cave, dropping his stick—

His eyes grew wide. The cave. He’d heard of those, had he unknowingly stumbled upon one? They’d only ever been rumored to exist; whispers of them swirled around the town fires by the hidden Druids who were too afraid to come out of their silence and claim what was rightfully theirs by the Old Religion.

Those caves weren't meant for the likes of him. He was a coward; he’d wounded himself on purpose to get out of the first battles fought against barbarians who came across the sea. Those Druid caves were meant to help the true and brave and selfless, not men who were too afraid to die in battle and never see their young child again.

Had it, truly, been their magic that had taken him to this place? If so, it was a fitting end for him to live out his days there, cut off from his son for eternity. A fitting punishment for such a coward.

He squeezed his eyes shut, pushing away that cruel voice. No, the caves were rumored to only provide refuge for those who truly deserved and needed it. Something in him had been enough to be saved. If only he knew what.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle enlists the help of a nutty professor.
> 
> Thanks to MarieQuiteContrarie for the help!

Belle drummed her fingers impatiently on her laptop, waiting for the internet signal to decide what kind of strength it was going to give her before her call connected.

She’d taken an unofficial watch over Rumple since the afternoon, pulling a chair to his bedside and settling in with her laptop and a few research tomes on the side table. Before he’d slipped into his fitful rest, she’d managed to get a bit of food into him so he'd at least sleep with a full stomach.

Her gaze darted to his face as he shifted and whimpered softly, and she caught herself reaching out to  touch him. She pulled her hand back, and was grateful she was alone with him, with only a solitary beside lamp to illuminate her flushed cheeks.

A sunny chirp issued from her computer, letting her know the call was successful and she realigned her focus. A slightly pixelated visage of a slightly disheveled, bespectacled brunette appeared a few moments later and Belle smiled at the screen.

“Hi Ruby. Thanks for letting me call you in the middle of work.”

Ruby waived a careless hand. “Nah, not a problem, Belles. I don't have to teach for another hour. What can I do for you? Your message sounded kind of urgent.”

Belle gave Ruby a basic description of the events that had transpired since unfreezing Rumple, and grimaced to see the look of shock on Ruby’s face when she finished. 

“…Wow.” Ruby sat back, crossing her arms. “And you’re sure this isn’t some elaborate set up?”

Belle rolled her eyes. “Ruby, come on. It’s not a set up.” At least, she didn't think it was.

Ruby threw up her hands. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen people do weird stuff when they want to get out of something. Like getting rid of a bad date, for example.”

Belle snorted lightly. “That aside, what do you think?”

Ruby hummed contemplatively, removing her glasses and staring off-screen for a moment. Her eyes seemed to land on something and she jumped out of her chair. “Hold on a sec!”

Belle shifted in her own chair, resettling into a more comfortable spot as she waited for Ruby to return. She didn’t have to wait long; Ruby reappeared with a small stack of scholarly journals and started rifling through them as she sat back down.

“Alright, let me just poke through these for a moment, there’s a specific article in one of them I want to— found it!” She held up one journal in triumph. “I knew I this would come in handy someday, super glad I didn't let Doc talk me out of subscribing.” She lowered the journal. “You know, for someone so fond of research and keeping hard copies of basically everything, he puts a hell of a lot of worrisome stock in wikipedia.”

Belle gave a soft huff of laughter. “Ruby.”

Ruby’s cheeks colored. “Right! I’m meant to be helping you.” She flipped through the first pages, crowing when she found what she was looking for. “Bam! Gotcha!” She looked at Belle. “You said he’s roughly seven hundred, right?”

Belle nodded. “I think so. Going by what he was wearing when we found him and the location, it makes sense that he’d be about that…that age.”

Ruby nodded. “Right. Ok, so, without going into too much detail that you really don't need, based on the time, place, and fun religious habits of the middle ages, I’d bet my nonexistent Christmas bonus that he was, at the very least, aware of the existence of Druids.”

_Druids. Of course._ Belle had studied them during an undergraduate class on the history of religions. She’d been dissatisfied with the professor’s dismissal of Celtic forms of worship outside of how they related to the spread of Christianity, and took up the mantle of research into the topic for herself. “But it was the fourteenth century; surely they’d be hiding to avoid repercussions.”

Ruby nodded. “Oh, totally. You’re not wrong. But you’re in the Scottish highlands. Plenty of places for pockets of rebellion to exist hundreds of years ago without anyone ever finding out, or at least not for a long time. And Druids weren't real great at writing down their history. Pair that with a propensity for winning sides to destroy what they felt threatened by, and we don’t have any serious proof that this area of Scotland wasn’t lousy with Druids.”

Belle sat back, frowning. “So it’s likely that he was…is a druid himself?”

Ruby shrugged. “Not having seen him, I can’t say yes. But it’s definitely safe to assume he’s familiar with the mystery attributed to—“ She stopped, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “Holy shit.”

Belle raised an eyebrow as Ruby dashed off screen again, fast enough to make her chair spin, and flinched when she heard the sound of books falling, followed by a muffled curse from Ruby.

“Ruby, are you ok? What are you doing?” She leaned forward, wishing she could see around the edges of the screen and was ready to call for Ruby again when the tall frame of her friend reappeared, this time with an ancient looking text clutched to her chest. 

“Sorry! I couldn't remember exactly where I’d left this.” She sat, reverently placing the book in front of her, then smoothed her tousled hair away from her face. “It’s, like, the rarest book I have, and I don’t keep it easily accessible to anyone, including me.”

“Are you ok? It sounded like books were falling on you.” Belle meant it as a joke, but Ruby nodded, her focus on the book as she carefully opened the cover.

“Yeah, they did. Hazard of the placement.” She paged through the tome, gently peeling the yellowed pages back, and something tickled the back of Belle’s mind, like the fragments of a long-forgotten memory stirring back to life and demanding to be reassembled. She blinked, shaking her head.

“Ruby, where did you get that—“

“Here it is!” Ruby interrupted, seemingly unaware that Belle had spoken. “I knew the cave couldn't be random. Not with their history.” She was mumbling to herself, lightly skimming a finger down the page and Belle looked at her without seeing, the swirling thoughts in her head distracting her as they refused to take shape.

“Belle? Earth to Belle!”

Belle’s focus snapped back into place. “What? Sorry, did you say something?”

“I’ve been calling your name for a solid minute.” Ruby’s lips quirked in a curious smile. “Where were you?”

Belle shook her head, shoving the maelstrom to the back of her mind. “Nowhere. What did you find?”

Ruby’s smile grew and she tilted the book up. “This book is sort of a druidic history.”

“Sort of?” Belle frowned. 

Ruby nodded. “Yeah, it’s complicated. Not many academics take it seriously, but somehow it’s been sought after for years. I get requests on the regular to sell it, but I’m always like, are you going to burn it once you have it?”

“Ruby.”

“Right, sorry.” She lowered the book. “One of the reasons it’s not taken too seriously is it talks about a kind of time travel that _everyone_ knows is impossible.” She rolled her eyes. “Because of course we’ve found everything there is to know in the universe already, right?” She snorted. “Idiots.”

Belle leaned forward. “But I thought there weren’t any real writings from the time on Druid history? Didn’t you say they kept abysmal records?”

Ruby nodded. “Yep. Which brings me to another reason why this book is trusted only by a few, including me. It was written four hundred years after what we’d call the height of the Druidic faith. So you’ve got history from the dark ages written in the Renaissance with no other written versions in between.”

Belle nodded. “Of course, they’d have no logical choice but to dismiss it.” She was close to dismissing it herself.

“I mean, sure, if you want to be small-minded about it.” Ruby’s voice held a wry note.

“But what does this have to do with my… situation?” Belle glanced to the sleeping figure of Rumple next to her, watching his back gently rise and fall with his breathing. “How can we use this to help him?”

“You found him in a cave. Caves are heavily featured in this book, and they’re the supposed means of that weird kind of time travel that gets dismissed as fiction.” Ruby’s face turned serious, and Belle saw her take a deep breath.

“Belle, I think he got here by magic.”


	11. Chapter 11

Belle’s jaw dropped.

“No way.”

Ruby nodded, her eyes lighting with excitement. “Think about it. He was in some weird kind of suspended animation when you found him, right?”

Belle was flummoxed. “Well, yes, but that was just a weird kind of ice or…something.”

Ruby slashed her hands through the air. “Belle, open your mind for a minute. I think this man accidentally stumbled into one of those protective caves and was sealed in and sent somewhere safer than where he was.”

“Druid magic?” Belle turned to gaze at Rumple, propping her chin in her hand as she watched him sleep. Her inner logic railed at the idea, rolling its eyes but some tiny part of her, some small spark of imagination stirred to life and said why not?

“Still with me, Belle?”

Belle jumped at the sound of Ruby’s voice, having been lost to her rapidly growing imagination, and dislodged a research book near the corner of the side table. It fell to the floor with a heavy slap, making Belle wince and dart her eyes to the bed as Rumple’s body jerked and he rolled to his back with a startled gasp, eyes shooting open in apparent fright.

“Ruby, I have to go.” Belle cut off the call, interrupting Ruby’s admonishment to wait, and promised herself she’d call back and apologize after she saw to Rumple.

She pushed out of the chair and deposited herself next to him on the bed. Rumple looked around, panicked, before seeing Belle. His eyes searched her face and he seemed to calm as wakefulness reached him fully. Belle extended a hand, gently smoothing back his disheveled hair where it had fallen on his face.

“Hey, Rumple.” She smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, I knocked a book off the table. Of course, it had to be the biggest one, right?” She chuckled softly.

He stared at her, his eyes darting from her mouth to her eyes and back, his look slightly glazed.

Belle sighed, rolling her eyes. “I should let you get back to sleep, shouldn't I? Just babbling up a storm here isn't helping you get a good night’s rest.”

She began to lift herself off the bed when she felt a light touch cross her hand where it lay on the blanket. She looked down in surprise, seeing Rumple’s long fingers gently curving around her wrist.

“Oh.”

Rumple slid backwards in clear invitation for her to lay with him, still grasping her hand. Belle hesitated, professional guilt gnawing at her but he interrupted her musing, speaking in barely above a whisper, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows.

Belle sighed. She should go. She should walk away and let him rest and not cross any more boundaries.

But he looked so sad. And lonely. And surely just laying on top of the blanket wasn’t too bad, was it? She’d stay a little while and then when he was asleep, go to her own room.

She made her choice, slowly laying down next to him, a few inches and the covers between them. She looked into his eyes, the soft brown of a Robin’s wing, warm and kind yet filled with such sadness. And of course they were; he’d only just found out he’d lost his son. Belle’s heart ached for him.

She gave voice to the thoughts in her heart, easy to do in the still of night under cover of dark.

“I wish we could understand each other.” She smiled sadly. “I don’t know if it will ever happen, but I wish it would."

Rumple gazed at her, seemingly at ease for the first time since he’d been the awful news. He spoke again, the odd yet lovely-sounding words rolling over her, like the gentle chortle of a spring. She listened despite not understanding, the soothing timbre of his voice lulling her into drowsiness and her eyelids grew heavy.

_Just for a minute,_ she thought. _I’ll rest my eyes for just a minute.  
_

* * *

Belle was lying next to him, and her presence kept the pain at bay. All too soon it would come crashing back in and he would be shattered once more, but for now, for this moment, he was able to feel something other than the weight of his empty heart.

She spoke a little and he was mesmerized by the sound of her voice, desperately wishing he could communicate in turn. He could at least speak to her, even if it wasn't understood.

“What manner of woman are you to have been so kind to a man like me?” He murmured, watching her cerulean eyes slowly drift closed as he spoke in low tones. “I wish to know you, Belle. I wish to speak with you and to see you understand me.”

Her eyes closed fully, a tiny smile playing about her mouth in her sleep, and he dared to shift a little closer, their nearness giving him the smallest hint of her scent, light and floral, and he closed his eyes, soothed and lulled back into his own slumber.

* * *

Belle awoke feeling warm and safe, tucked against something firm that had her in a gentle, but strong, grip. A long arm looped around her waist, keeping her near, and her face was nestled in the crook of a masculine neck. Gentle circles were made by the hand at her back and she hummed in contentment.

The edges of sleep kept her suspended in a blissful state of cozy ignorance before reality set in and she remembered where she was. Her eyes opened fully and she pulled back a bit to see the slightly sleepy gaze of Rumple looking back at her. He smiled, a gentle twitch of his lips and she felt entirely at sea.

She registered covers had been thrown over her at some point but realized she was still in her own clothes from the night before. She glanced down, seeing the top cover draped across her lower half, with the sheet covering Rumple’s and sighed internally in relief.

She dared to look back up at him and felt him bring his hand up to brush a stray curl from her face before he cupped his hand around her cheek and stroked the rough pad of his thumb across her cheekbone. His thumb slid down to trace the line of her lower lip and she felt a surge of desire so strong she nearly gasped. He moved forward, nuzzling the tip of her nose with his own and it took all of her willpower to keep from bridging that minuscule distance between them, but oh, how she wanted to.

A stab of guilt permeated the fog of desire. It was wrong, he was a subject, _her s_ ubject; under her care and jurisdiction and it was so wrong to be here in bed with him, wanting to press her lips against his, to feel his body against hers. To stare at his thin, sensual mouth and wonder which part of her body he would choose to worship first.

She took a deep breath, preparing to fully break the spell.

“Rumple—“

He cut her off, bridging that small distance and pressing his mouth fully to hers. A pleasurable shock ran through her at the feel of him and she whimpered, clutching folds of his nightshirt in her hands.

The sound seemed to set him aflame. He shifted, pulling her slightly underneath him, all but trapping her in the covers as his mouth moved across hers, coaxing her to open for him. His hands slid around her body, one to the small of her back to press her closer and the other to the back of her neck, his grip gentle as he angled her for better access.

She felt him through the blankets; he was fully aroused and she gasped at the jolt of raw need that lanced through her at the realization. He took advantage of her suddenly open mouth, sliding his tongue past her lips and she moaned, meeting his fervor with her own.

Lost to the sensations of Rumple’s mouth and body against hers, she barely registered a knock at the door and was ripped from the pleasurable cocoon of their bodies as Archie’s surprised exclamation erupted from one side of the room. 

“What on earth is going on here?!”


	12. Chapter 12

Belle tore her mouth from Rumple’s as Archie’s voice permeated the pleasant fog that had collected over her mind.

She scrambled to be free of the covers, trying desperately to dislodge herself as she felt Archie’s horrified glare burning into her skull.

“Archie, it’s not—“

She cut off as she felt a slim, strong arm curve around her waist, pulling her back down and into the shelter of Rumple’s wiry body.

He uttered something in a deep, guttural tone, levering himself over her to glare in return at Archie. Belle’s eyes darted between the two men; Archie’s cheeks pink with embarrassment as he looked away, while Rumple’s face was stony and dark.

Common sense snapped back into place like an overstretched rubber band, and she renewed her efforts to remove herself from the bed.

“Rumple, let me go.” She pushed at his arm. “I have to get up and talk to Archie!”

He glanced down at her, his narrowed gaze roving her face, and she frowned in return.

“You’re only making it worse,” she said in a fervent whisper. Something in her voice must have registered with him; he reluctantly released his hold on her and moved to the furthest side of the bed with a new wariness in his eyes that tore at her.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she said, finally managing to push the covers off her legs, “I just need to talk to him.” 

Rumple stopped her before she left, brushing his fingers against hers in a light grasp, and she looked back at him. He managed a tiny smile and she felt a corner of her mouth curve upwards in response before she turned away.

She stumbled a bit from the bed over to Archie, grabbing his arm and leading him out. She didn't stop dragging him until they'd reached her room, just a short distance from Rumple’s, and pressed her forehead to the cool surface of the door once they were inside.

She couldn't look at him, not yet. She kept her forehead pressed to the door and waited for the onslaught of disappointment she knew was coming. Followed by what was most likely her firing once he told Regina.

She was so stupid. How could she have let this happen? She’d given in just for a moment and ruined everything. When she was fired, who would take care of Rumple? Who would—

“Belle.”

She sighed and forced herself to turn around and meet his eyes. “Archie.”

He gazed at her, sympathy and confusion writ clearly across his face.

“Stop looking at me like that.” She leaned against the door, crossing her arms. “I know what I did.”

“Why did you do it?” He tilted his head, his tone curious. “Do you know?”

She huffed a bitter laugh. “Because I’m terrible. Why else would I take obvious advantage of a research subject under my care?” She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I’m a deviant.”

“No, not a deviant and not terrible either.” He said thoughtfully. “Confused, perhaps. Emotions are running a bit high right now, considering the circumstances.” 

She wanted to cry. “Archie, why are you being so understanding? Why aren’t you yelling at me and calling for Regina to come and kick me out of here?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Is that what you want me to do?”

She scowled. “It’s what you _should_ do.”

“That’s not what I asked, Belle.” He walked towards her, adjusting his glasses as he came to her side, leaning one shoulder against the door. “Do you want me to tell Regina?”

She shrugged, her expression miserable. “You have to; it’s the right thing to do.”

He shrugged. “Maybe it is. Or maybe we could talk about what happened before we make a final decision.”

Belle looked at him, his blue-grey eyes clear and earnest behind the wire frames of his glasses. He smiled at her, small and encouraging, and it was enough to crack whatever carefully constructed facade she’d built since Rumple first woke up.

She sighed, world-weary. “Archie… I’m so, so stupid.” 

* * *

Waking to Belle tucked against him had been a gift from whatever god still shone their light on this place. She’d been was so peaceful in sleep, the worry that creased her brow smoothed by slumber and he'd stolen time to watch her before wrapping an arm around her to tuck her gently against him. Whatever peace found her in sleep had transferred to him, too, and he’d been clear-minded and free for the moment from the aching pain of loss that had come to rest between his ribs.

He was not a brave man, but with Belle in his arms, he felt capable of surviving, of learning to honor his son’s life with his own if, for whatever reason, they could not send him back to his own time. 

Before his mind could wander further down that path, she'd woken, gazing up at him with eyes blue as a cloudless day and he’d been lost.

It had been far too easy to kiss her; the desire had been tickling his mind since she laid down next to him the night before and when she had said his name, some primal urge surged through him, demanding he claim her as his own.

He’d happily obliged.

She was so soft and he had felt her curves even through her clothing, too aroused to be embarrassed that the evidence of his desire was pressed between them, hard and demanding. She hadn't seemed to mind until that man— Archie —came in and ruined everything.

He was also not a violent man, but some dark and possessive thing had grabbed him when Archie appeared and he had given it reign to snarl at the man to leave them, but, of course, he hadn't been understood.

So much misunderstanding since he’d woken. So much time spent with another person between them when all he wanted was to ask more about his boy and to be with Belle. He was not brave or a warrior, but he was smart. There had to be a way to learn to communicate without a third party. Not that he wasn't grateful for the help; it was just past time to fix the issue.

He sat up after they’d left his room, disgruntled and still half-erect, the covers tenting around his upraised knees. He scanned the room idly, sighing and shaking his head at the familiar-yet-not furnishings, his eyes coming to rest on Belle’s chair and the odd silver thing placed on the seat.

He remembered being woken by a loud noise, and then she’d come to him, speaking in a soothing voice. The rest was a blur of her sweet face and the warmth as she laid near him. He smiled a bit at the memory, his eyes falling to the pile of books stacked neatly on the small table by his bed—

He did a double-take. 

There was a king’s ransom in tomes sitting next to him and his jaw dropped.

Some thick, some thin, all with worn edges that bespoke their frequent use. He scrambled to the edge of the bed, reaching out hesitantly to touch them; fearful, but of what? Tainting them? Turning them to dust?

A sudden thought drained the blood from his face. Were these Belle’s books? What had it cost her to acquire them? Had she done this for him?

Guilt twisted his gut; he was afraid to know what she had done to buy these. He pulled his hand back; better not to touch them than to risk ruining something so precious. He’d never been able to afford books, all the money he’d ever seen was gone as soon as he’d made it. It was expensive to be poor. 

The Druids had taken pity on him as a child after he was abandoned by his father to the care of his spinster aunts, and had taught him letters and figures. He’d learned enough to know when he was being swindled, but never enough to rise out of his station. It was just as well; greatness wasn't for the likes of him, and though he was poor, he provided food and shelter to his son and that was all that mattered.

Rumple was lost in his thoughts and didn’t hear the knock at the door, but jumped a bit when the friendly face of Graham swam into his view.

“Feeling alright today, Rumplestiltskin?” Graham smiled and moved the silver thing from Belle’s chair, and took its place.

Rumple nodded. “Y-yes.” He didn’t dare mention what had happened earlier between him and Belle. Archie had seemed so upset by it and he didn't want to risk pushing Graham away, too. He was the only communication link Rumple had.

“Graham,” he said, pointing to the books. “Do all of these belong to Belle?”

Graham frowned in thought, picking up the topmost book from the pile and flipped through it casually.

“Likely. She loves to read, our Belle,” he said. “She’s our resident bookworm.”

Rumple frowned at the unfamiliar term. “Bookworm?”

Graham chuckled. “Oh, yes. If it’s been written, I bet she’s read it.” He tossed the book back onto the pile. “Mostly research texts here, but I imagine she’d use the internet to find something quickly.” He grinned. “Probably not Wikipedia, though.”

Rumple gawped at him; several strange words had set his head spinning and he needed a moment to collect his thoughts.

Graham winced. “I’m sorry, Rumple, I got caught up in my own head.” He reached down next to him and pulled another silver rectangle from a bag by Belle’s chair. “One thing at a time, right?”

Rumple nodded, still confused but trying to put on a good face. “I suppose, yes.”

“Alright.” Graham smiled and opened the rectangle in his lap. Rumple craned his neck to see what he was doing and marveled at the rows of small black squares scattered neatly on the thing.

“What is that?”

Graham tapped a few of the black squares and the device let out a cheerful noise. “This, my dear Rumplestiltskin, is a computer.” He winked at Rumple. “And the thing that I’m hoping will help you communicate with everyone without my interference.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These nerds :)

Belle sat across from Archie on her bed, legs crossed and worrying her fingers together as she waited for his reaction.

“Well,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “This is… a lot to take in.”

“I really didn’t mean for it to go that far. I just wanted to comfort him a little after scaring him out of a sound sleep.”

“I think you did that, and then some, Belle.” Archie’s cheeks went faintly pink and he chuckled. “He seemed quite absorbed with you, and I think what he said to me was some kind of warning.”

She shrugged miserably. “It doesn’t matter because it should never have happened and it never will again.” She buried her head in her hands. “I’ve never done anything like that, what the hell is wrong with me?”

He gave a small hum of contemplation. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Belle. Sometimes…sometimes things present themselves to us in such a way as makes them difficult to ignore or avoid. This man took to you from the moment he opened his eyes in the lab. I can’t say I’m altogether surprised at what I saw.”

“How do I face him now? What do I do, ask Graham to translate while I let him down gently?” It was the last thing she wanted to do, but what other choice was there? She couldn't very well carry on with Rumple like that; it wasn’t fair or ethical, despite the confusing desire for him still flowing through her veins.

“I can’t answer that for you.” He reached over and patted her knee. “But I _am_ here to listen and help you in any other way I can.”

She nodded. “I know, thank you.” She shifted, pulling her knees up and resting her chin on them. “This is insane, Archie.”

Archie chuckled. “I don’t know if I’d use that term, but it is very… unusual.” He scooted backward on the bed, leaning against the wall and gazing out Belle’s window, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Your friend Ruby suggested searching the history of the caves?”

“Yeah,” Belle said, smiling at the memory of her friend. “She’s my very own absentminded professor; she’s also crazy smart and twice the researcher than I am. I trust her analysis, _unusual_ as it may be.

“Would she send you her research books or perhaps copy the pertinent pages?”

Belle shrugged a shoulder. “She’s really protective of them and doesn’t trust them out of her sight. Exposing them to more light than necessary would send her into fits, I think.”

Archie nodded. “I see. Well, it doesn’t hurt to ask, does it? The worst she can say is no.

Belle gave him a look. “You don't know Ruby. She’d want to personally accompany them to keep them safe.”

“Then invite her up.” 

Belle wrinkled her nose and shook her head at him and he laughed. “She’s not that bad, is she? Graham is a friend of yours, and he’s fantastic. I’d imagine Ruby to be the same way.”

“Only if you consider a tornado ‘not that bad’. I adore Ruby to my toes, have done since we were kids, but she’s got her own way of doing things and it’s not the most conducive to a dig like this.”

“But she knows about Rumplestiltskin and she has source material to back up her theory; what’s the harm in inviting her up here? What could possibly go wrong?”

Belle’s mouth twisted wryly. “I’ve already made a mess of things with Rumple, I don’t need even the possibility of anything else going wrong.” She sighed. “But… maybe you’re right. She’s got the resources we need. Might as well add another person to this weird menagerie.”

He smiled at her. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at the outcome if you do.” 

* * *

_Computer_. The word was the most foreign one Rumple had heard since waking if he didn't count the language Belle spoke that he didn't understand. He was already surrounded by devices he couldn't begin to comprehend, so what was one more? And if it meant being able to talk to Belle, he would swallow any apprehension gladly.

Some people in his village feared new things, preferring the old ways of living their lives, but Rumple was never afraid of new things that essentially seemed harmless. No, he reserved his fear for the things that counted, like war and famine and…death.

He pushed that thought away. Letting it take over would lead to disaster and he needed to concentrate on the task in front of him. This…computer thing Graham had been tapping on for the past few minutes.

He watched the other man’s face as he worked, and smiled a bit at the way concentration put notches in his brow. He enjoyed Graham’s company. Not as much as Belle’s, but he felt like Graham was his ally, his friend. At least, he hoped that was the case.

Graham finished his tapping and smiled, lifting his eyes to Rumple’s.

“And now we just have to let it set itself up and we should be able to try it out soon.” He set the laptop to the side, crossing one ankle over his opposite knee. “It’s a large program and will take a little while, but I have an idea as to how we can fill the time if you’re open to it.”

Rumple gave him a quizzical smile. “Of-of course. What would you have me do, Graham?”

Graham chuckled. “You don’t need to do anything. I just thought… well, about how tall are you, Rumple?”

Rumple frowned. “I, ah, I’m not sure. I’ve never measured. …Is that what you needed?”

“No, not quite.” He eyed Rumple, his expression assessing and Rumple swallowed, a tingle of unease stirring in his chest.

“Is something wrong, Graham?”

Graham’s expression cleared and he smiled. “No, sorry. Got lost in my thoughts again.” He leaned forward. “Listen, Rumple. I wasn't sure how long I would be staying here, and it turns out I way overpacked.”

Rumple frowned. “Overpacked? I don’t—“

Graham waved a hand, chuckling. “I brought way too many clothes.” He clasped his hands together, interlacing his fingers and pointed at Rumple. “And I was thinking, maybe you’d like to take some of these off my hands for a little while?”

Rumple was at sea. “Do they need… mending?” He was a spinner, but he was a fair hand with the needle as well. Perhaps Graham had decided it was time for him to earn his keep. It seemed only fair, after all—

Graham waved a hand in front of Rumple’s eyes, startling him out of his thoughts. “Oh! Forgive me. I was, ah, lost in my own thoughts, too.” He smiled, testing the phrase. “I can mend something if you like. All I would need is needle and thread.”

“Rumple, I don’t want you to mend my clothes. I’m not asking you to work, I’m asking you if you’d like to wear them.” He grinned at the stunned look on Rumple’s face. “If they fit, of course. You’re a trifle thinner than I am, and you might be a bit shorter, but we can make do.”

“I…” Words escaped him. Did Graham mean this as a gesture of kindness, or of pity? It must be kindness. He was like Belle,  wasn’t he? Kind and was going to great lengths to help things settle. First the special _program_ , as he called it, and now an offer of clothing.

Rumple looked down at his wrinkled and dirty homespun shirt and suddenly realized what the issue was. He must look a fright, and Graham was just trying to take an ugly man and make him more presentable. It wasn’t kindness, after all. It really was pity. The idea left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He scowled and shook his head. “No. I don’t need your charity.”

Graham’s eyes widened and he looked puzzled. “Charity? It’s not charity. I offered in friendship. If you don’t want them, that’s ok, but I thought maybe you’d like to have a fresh change of clothes.” He shrugged. “Might make you feel better.”

Rumple was torn. To accept another’s things, even in the spirit of friendship, was a matter of pride for him. He couldn't accept those things without something to offer in return, but what did he have? He was alone, with only the clothes on his back and his two hands and a bad ankle.

But… he could still earn his keep, couldn't he? He didn't know anything about their time, other than it was confusing and very bright all the time, but he could still be put to work. His back was strong despite his lameness.

He looked at Graham, watching his features closely as he spoke. “I will accept, on one condition.”

Graham quirked an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And that is?”

“It needs to be an even trade. I would like to earn my keep… while I’m here.”

Graham shrugged. “If that’s what you want I’m sure we can figure it out.” He winked at Rumple. “And I’m sure Belle will love to see you up and about.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh sh*t look who's still alive.
> 
> Rating went up because of this chapter. Enjoy!

****Belle spent a good portion of the morning trying to convince Regina it was a good idea to bring Ruby and her expertise aboard for a little while, and then emailing Ruby to pose the offer. Regina had surprised her by agreeing to rearrange the budget to find the funds to at least fly her up for a few days.

How interesting that they were able to find money for Ruby but not Graham, Belle had wondered aloud with a sly look at Regina. All it had gotten her was a scowl and a terse order to go do something productive with her morning. Belle backed out of Regina’s office, failing to hide a grin.

She wasn't able to make it back to see Rumple until almost midday. Guilt gnawed at her and she wondered if he was confused at her absence, or even upset with her.

She mulled it over while walking slowly down the hall towards Rumple’s room, and an idea came to her. It had been a little while since she fed him, hadn’t it? Not that he hadn’t eaten since then, she knew he had, but he hadn’t eaten anything she had prepared since she made him oatmeal what felt like ages ago. She hurried to the pantry, promising herself that she’d make him something from scratch soon, but a simple sandwich and soup would do for now.

After putting together a roast beef sandwich and a bowl of leftover potato leek soup, she made her way back to his room. Juggling the tray carefully on one arm, she opened the door and stepped inside. She spotted Graham by the medical table but when she glanced at the bed she found it empty, the covers neatened and without a wrinkle.

Her stomach gave a sickening drop. Where was Rumple? Had something happened? She set the tray down on a nearby table, her hands shaking.

“Graham, where’s Rumple? What happened?”

Graham turned, smiling. “Hey! How are—“

“Where’s Rumple?” she interrupted, glaring at him. “What did you do with him?”

“Do? Oh! No, he’s fine, I promise.” He gestured to the bathroom door at the back of the room. “He’s just getting cleaned up.”

The pieces clicked together. Of course. He was human, he had hygiene needs just like she did. She felt like an idiot for overreacting.

“You’re gonna start a fire with your face aflame like that.” Graham approached slowy with his palms raised in surrender, then placed his hands on her shoulders. “Knock it off, will you?” He grinned.

“I thought for a moment… well, never mind.” She took a breath. “I brought him lunch. Will he be out soon?”

Before Graham could answer, she heard the bathroom door creak open and the sight that met her eyes made her jaw drop.

An altogether different Rumple faced her now than when she’d left early that morning. He’d been scrubbed clean and given a shave and his long hair swayed softly about his neck, the silver-streaked brown strands inviting her fingers to run through them.

He was dressed entirely differently, too. Gone was the homespun shirt and pants they’d found him in. They’d been replaced by a pair of dark blue jeans and a white button down shirt rolled up to his forearms, a grey vest and black shoes completing his look. He leaned lightly on a cane and some dim part of her brain wondered where he’d found it.

He stared back at her, his cheeks a bit pink and a tiny smile curving his mouth. She felt suddenly very glad she’d chosen to dress a bit nicer that day, deciding to pair her favorite blue shirt with a navy skirt and blue flats.

Graham’s cheerful voice broke the spell.

“Look at you!” He spoke in English but followed in the language the two men shared and Rumple ducked his head with a light laugh, saying something in response that had Graham chuckling. Belle looked between them, pleased at their rapport but slightly rankled that someone else had connected with him as well as she had. She supposed it was the language that helped and felt a twinge of envy. She shook herself and forced a smile to her face. It wasn’t fair to feel that way. He was a lost man who had connected with another and that was okay. It was more than okay; it was good and right and she needed to knock it off, like Graham said.

Graham clapped Rumple on the shoulder and said something that made him shrug before nodding and responding. Graham turned to Belle, still with a hand on Rumple’s shoulder and grinned hugely, gesturing with his other hand.

“Doesn’t he look amazing?”

Belle nodded. “Are those your clothes?” The vest and shirt combination looked distinctly Graham-like.

He nodded. “Yeah. They weren’t the best fit but this guy,” he jerked a thumb at Rumple, “apparently can sew, and fast. I found some needle and thread and he had the pants hemmed before I could blink. It was kind of cool.” He let go of Rumple and moved across the room, picking up his laptop.

Belle pointed to the tray, her eyes on Rumple. “I, um, brought you lunch. I hope you like roast beef and potato leek soup.” He watched her, his eyes running over her frame and back up in a way that made the room feel a little too warm.

“What, nothing for me?” Graham sidled up to her, laptop in hand. “I see how it is; Rumple’s gotten all handsome, so now I’m chopped liver.” He sighed dramatically before translating. Rumple’s curious look smoothed out into a shy smile and he fiddled with his cane, muttering something that had Graham smiling like a fool.

“What’s got you so happy?” Belle busied herself with straightening Rumple’s lunch, folding and refolding the napkin on his tray and studiously ignoring the burning in her cheeks.

“He said thank you and you look very nice, too.” Graham pressed a button on his laptop. “But you can hear it for yourself if you’d like.”

Belle turned around, bemused, Rumple’s cutlery in one hand and his napkin in the other. “What are you talking about?”

“Listen.” He tapped another button and then said something to Rumple, who cleared his throat and spoke.

A few seconds lapsed and the a computerized voice issued from the small speakers.

“You look beautiful.”

Graham tapped a key. “Pretty clever, huh?”

Belle was stunned. A slow smile crept across her face and she giggled. Rumple smiled at her, appearing to find amusement in her delight. She whipped around to face Graham.

“This is amazing! When did you do all this? How did you do this? What kind of program is that? Can I have it on my laptop, too? Maybe after lunch, could we do it then?”

“Of course, but you’d better go and feed this one first before he collapses from low blood sugar.” Graham hitched a thumb at Rumple and winked before setting the laptop on the table and moving away.

Belle reached for Rumple’s tray once more, but realized she'd dropped his silverware in her excitement. “Oh, damn.”

Graham noticed and hurried over, scooping the instruments off the ground before Belle. “I’ll grab some more. You two sit tight and, you know, have your first real conversation.” He closed the door close behind them with a gentle click.

Belle dropped her gaze to her hands, watching herself twist her fingers into knots. What should she say first? Should she apologize for the morning? Ask about his son? No, that was a terrible idea, why would she even think that? It was probably the last thing he wanted—

She heard the tapping of his cane as he approached her and her head jerked up. A gentle smile lit his face and he stopped a short distance from her.

He pointed to the tray and spoke.

“Is that for me?”

She couldn't help the giddy laugh that escaped her, and she nodded. “Yes! Yes, it’s all yours. I hope you like roast beef. I don’t know if you've ever had it but—“

She cut off as the program started speaking in his language, the odd syllables beautiful and complex, a music all their own even when spoken by a robotic voice.

He moved closer to her, reaching around to pick up the sandwich, rotating it a bit in his hand before taking a bite. His eyes lit up as he chewed and he smiled, looking at her with a contented little hum. Her heartbeat increased at having him so near and she gazed up at him, wondering how watching someone eat something she made could be so… attractive.

He set the sandwich back down and she reached up automatically to brush a few crumbs off the corner of his mouth with her thumb. They both stilled as she touched him, staring at one another, the moment turning long and breathless as the rest of the world faded around them. He caught her hand before she could pull it away, holding it gently, his thumb brushing against her palm before he brought it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the tender pad above her wrist. Her hand tingled where his lips met her skin and her eyes fluttered, his simple gesture achingly sensual. He lowered her hand and leaned in, his breath crossing her lips—

“Had to dig a bit, but found more silverware!”

Belle sprang away from Rumple at the sound of Graham’s voice, his cheerful words jarring her out of the depth of the moment and her face flushed. Graham trotted into the room, brandishing the cutlery in triumph, oblivious to the charged atmosphere between Belle and Rumple.

“Better eat the soup before it gets cold, Rumple.” He fussed over the tray, aligning everything just so and Belle glared at his back.

“So,” he said, turning back around, “what did you two manage to get accomplished while I was gone?”

The computer translated his words and Belle saw Rumple’s mouth open to reply. She hurried to interrupt him.

“Oh, n-nothing important!” She let out a nervous laugh. “Just, you know, explaining lunch.”

She could feel Rumple’s gaze on her as the words were converted and raised her eyes to his. He met her gaze before ducking his head and Belle caught the impish grin curving his mouth before he slid gently past her to sit at the table. He tugged the tray closer and leaned over the soup, giving it an experimental sniff before tucking in.

Graham looked between them with narrowed eyes for a moment before his face cleared and he rubbed his hands together.

“Right, well, you kids have a nice time. I have to talk to Regina about something, but you’ve got plenty of battery left before you need the charger.” He winked at Rumple. “See you guys later!”

Rumple looked up from his meal, giving the younger man a smile as he left, and went right back to eating after he’d gone. Belle pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down with a grimace.

“I’m sorry for fibbing, I just didn’t want Graham to react like Archie did this morning and we'd have to go through that all over again and—“

She stopped as the program interrupted her with its translation and as Rumple absorbed it, he smiled that sweet, crooked smile of his and took one of her hands. She gazed back at him before sanity returned and she blinked back into herself, feeling like a moon-eyed idiot. He gave her a gentle squeeze before returning his attention to his meal.

“Is it ok?”

He nodded and spoke. “Yes, it’s wonderful,” the program translated. “Are you not eating as well?”

“Oh, no. No, I’m fine,” she said, flicking a hand. “I’ll eat something later.”

He frowned and picked up his sandwich. “You need to eat.” He pushed it at her despite her protestations until she finally relented with a laugh.

“Alright, fine, if only to make you happy.” She tore the sandwich in half and returned a portion to him. “But I don’t need to eat all of it; I made it for you.”

The time passed companionably as they ate, and when he was finished, Rumple stood, leaned on his cane and held out a hand to her. He guided herto the window, gazing out at the cloudless blue expanse and shaking his head.

“It’s as if the gods trapped the skies of summer just for you.” He turned to her, bringing a hand up to caress her cheek. “I’ve never seen eyes like yours.”

Her eyelids fluttered closed of their own accord as he drew nearer. He stopped for the span of a heartbeat, just long enough to whisper her name like a prayer before capturing her lips with his own.

The same mad desire chased through her as the first time they kissed and she twined her arms around his neck, stretching on her toes to better fit against him. His cane clattered to the floor as he slid both arms around her in return, clutching her close and splaying his hands across her back.

This time, there was no one to interrupt them, no one to barge in and demand an explanation or drive them apart. They spent languid moments clinging to one another, her small whimpers of pleasure making him shudder and clutch her tighter as his kisses deepened. He tore his mouth away from hers only to spread rasping kisses down her neck, murmuring her name and other words she couldn’t understand as she dimly registered the computer must have gone to sleep while they were enjoying each other.

He swooped up from her neck to recapture her mouth, one hand sliding around and up her front to cup her breast. She moaned, pressing against his hand and he adjusted them further, nudging her against the wall with her back to the windows and insinuating his thigh between her legs.

She gasped as he pressed against her core, the wiry-strong limb exerting pressure where she wanted it most, and she tore her mouth away with a strangled cry as he nudged rhythmically against her. He slid a hand down and behind her to cup her bottom, exerting opposing force to move her more fully across his thigh, pressing harder as she mewled and melted for him.

She clutched hard at him, rational thought lost to the wind as the pleasure built. She was so close, gasping and moaning as he rasped breathless words into her ear, words her mind couldn’t understand but her body knew down to the fibers of her being.

His growl sent her over the edge and she shouted her pleasure, clinging to him and hiding her face in his neck as the waves crashed over her relentlessly. He held her as she came down, aftershocks making her twitch and whimper, and he pressed kisses into her hair, murmuring gentle words she knew were meant to soothe. He removed his thigh from between hers and held her close, evidence of his own desire prominent through his jeans.

As the frayed edges of her rational mind began knitting themselves back together, she waited for the onslaught of guilt to hit, but nothing came. A pleasant, warm drowsiness was all that remained as Rumple held her. Only when he shifted a bit to take pressure off his ankle and winced did she feel remorse.

She moved from him to retrieve his cane, a flush staining her cheeks as she realized they’d traversed something of a one-way street. As she handed his cane to him, she shyly trailed her fingers across the fly of his jeans, looking up at him with a little smile filled with the intent to remedy the imbalance.

Rumple let out a bashful laugh and grasped her hand gently, pulling it to his mouth. He kissed her palm and shook his head, his words colored with embarrassment but his eyes clear as he gazed at her.

A loud knock sounded at the door, lasting long enough for the two to move a respectful distance apart before the door opened to reveal Graham’s cheerful face.

“Sorry that took so long, guys. How did everything go, Belle? Did the program work to your satisfaction?”

Belle glanced at Rumple, failing to stifle a grin. “Uh, yes. Yes, it did. We, um, must have moved too far from it somehow, though, because the computer went to sleep.”

“Did it?” Graham move to the laptop and tapped a few buttons. “Ah, yeah. Well, that’s ok. You two don’t seem worse for wear, and besides, I forgot to turn off the auto-record function so whatever pieces you missed are still here. Give me just a second to pull them up.”

He tapped a few more buttons, oblivious to the horror on Belle’s face as he fiddled with the program.

“This is a stop-gap anyway, Rumple is too smart to avoid picking up English for long and—“

Belle scurried over to him, slamming the laptop closed and nearly cutting off his hands in the process.

“No! I mean… we did just fine all on our own! No need to check it.” She gave him a too-bright smile. “Anyway, Rumple needs to relax now, and I have some administrative things to do, so let’s stop talking about this and you can just leave the laptop here. Please.”

Graham raised an eyebrow. “O-okay. Sure.” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll go pull out a few more books that might be interesting for him and drop them off before I take lunch.” He translated for Rumple, accepting his nod of understanding before leaving the room.

Belle groaned when she saw he’d taken the laptop after all.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As I said on Tumblr, Rumple learns English, Archie is stupid over Ruby, and Graham ships everyone.

_1 week later..._

 

Graham never confronted Belle about whatever he found in the recording but he couldn’t quite meet her eye for the week leading up to Ruby’s arrival. A couple of times he’d started to speak, but then stammered and blushed and looked at the floor.

His reluctance to bring it up was more than fine with Belle; she was certain it was one conversation she could do without.

It was bad enough that Rumple would steal kisses every time they were alone for more than a minute, little affectionate pecks all the way up to full, lush possessions of her mouth that left her breathless. Graham had begun teaching him English, which he picked up with startling speed, and was saying familiar words to her that somehow sounded foreign and special in his lilting erotic, accent. Words like sweet and blue and lovely.

Graham was right; Rumple was too smart by half and soon had everyone, even Regina, under his adorable spell.

By the time Ruby arrived, Rumple and Belle were conversing in halting, full sentences but their daily conversations took a brief backseat to the academic tornado that was Belle’s best friend.

She’d stumbled in, pulling two beat up suitcases behind her, and gave Belle one of her wide, toothy smiles and a happy squeal. Ruby’s crushing hug knocked her glasses askew on her face but she paid them no mind as she immediately began peppering Belle with questions aboutRumple. Belle stopped her with a laugh and introduced the rest of the team.

Ruby shook everyone’s hands absently, looking past them to ask Belle questions during the introductions. She held Archie’s hand overlong while quizzing Belle and blanched when Belle pointed out she was about to shake the poor man’s arm off. Ruby turned to him and gasped out an immediate apology. He just shook his head, a bemused smile on his face as she repeated her apology and grabbed her suitcases before starting down the hall.

Belle watched Archie as his gaze stole after Ruby and shook her head fondly.

After Ruby settled, she demanded to meet Rumple, refusing repeated offers of food and a chance to rest and freshen up. Rumple was why she had come this far and she wanted to get started right away. She rifled through one of her suitcases and pulled out the thick volume Belle recognized from their Skype call.

“Well?” she said. “Let’s get started!”

* * *

“I’m a little sorry we’re working on his English.” Graham scrubbed a hand through his hair as he watched Ruby talk to Rumple. It was obvious the poor man was only catching about every third word Ruby said and Belle sighed. 

“Yeah, I should probably step in. Ruby’s like a tropical storm.”

“Why don’t I go get Archie and see if he can help wind her down?”

Belle arched an eyebrow at him. “You don’t miss a trick, do you?”

“Nah,” he scoffed. “I just enjoy love, that’s all.” Graham smiled, his cheeks turning a bit pink.

Belle returned her gaze to Rumple, trying to ignore Graham’s comment and the little twist in her heart. Now was not the time to think of such things; she could see Rumple was increasingly overwhelmed by Ruby’s quick and complicated manner of speaking and needed to be rescued.

“—Which of course only took place because of the sociopolitical landscape and the absolute _assholery_ of the landed gentry who were controlling—“

“Ok then!” Belle interrupted with a clap of her hands. Rumple turned to her at once, naked gratitude in his eyes. Belle gave him a sympathetic smile in return. She loved her friend, but Ruby could be a bit much if you weren’t prepared for her, even for native English speakers born in this century

“Rubes, we have to cut Rumple a break. He just started learning English a week ago and I think you’re kind of scaring him.” Belle bit her lip. “Sorry.”

“Oh! No, it’s totally cool, I’m the one who should be sorry!” Ruby shook her head with a laugh. “I always forget that, like, not everyone has their head in obscure research all the time, let alone some dude who was frozen for a good chunk of modern history.” Her eyes shot to Rumple. “No offense.”

Rumple just smiled his crooked sweet smile at her and Belle saw Ruby melt a little before she stood, making way for Graham as she tugged Belle to a corner of the room.

“Oh, my god, Belle!” Ruby gushed in a whisper. “He’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen from that era! Aren’t you just nuts about him? And that adorable accent?” She grinned. “So cute!”

“Ruby,” Belle admonished. “Focus. Can your book help us figure out how and why he got here?”

Ruby sobered instantly but her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Yes, I believe it can. I need to do some analysis and a bit of cross-referencing but I think we can get a pretty damn good idea of what happened.” She stood up to her full height, clapping a hand over her slender stomach. “Well, now that we have a bit of a plan, I’m starving. Where’s your kitchen?”

Belle gave her directions and told her to help herself before opening the door. As luck would have it, Archie was passing by and nearly collided with Ruby as she darted out.

“Oh, hey there, Doc!” Ruby gave him a wink and a cheeky wave before continuing down the hall, facing him and walking backward. “I’m going to get something to eat, want anything?”

“N-no, thank you.” Archie adjusted his glasses, giving Ruby another bemused little smile. “I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself! Belle?”

Belle shook her head. “I’m good, Rubes, thanks.”

Ruby shot them both finger guns before turning around and continuing on her way. Archie watched her go, the smile never leaving his face until she was out of sight.

“Archie?”

He jumped. “What? Yes, oh…Belle. Sorry, were you speaking to me?”

Belle chuckled. “You sure you don’t want to go join her? She talks a lot, but she’s brilliant and funny. You’d like her.”

Archie gave a light shake of his head. “I already like her,” he said quietly.

“What was that?”

“…Nothing.” He adjusted his glasses once more. “How’s Rumple doing?”

Belle slid back into the room, Archie at her heels. “He’s well, I think. Ruby threw a lot of words and concepts at him and he didn’t panic or anything, so I think we’re ok.” She watched as Graham and Rumple conversed in the twin chairs near Rumple’s bed. He’d been out and about in the building but seemed to prefer the sanctuary of his room for any meetings or conversations. Belle was keen to get him outside into the sunshine but was trying hard to show restraint. With Ruby in the vicinity, someone had to.

Rumple said something that made Graham laugh and slap his knee. Belle moved to the bed, eager to be part of whatever joke they were sharing but kept a tight rein on her envy.

“What’s so funny?”

Graham laughter faded to a chuckle and he wiped his eyes. “Oh, god, nothing, just…Rumple told me a joke.”

“In English?”

Graham shook his head, wiping fresh tears of mirth from his eyes as he looked at Rumple and laughed all over again.Rumple spoke up in his stead.

“It does not, ah,” he stalled, turning to Graham and mumbling something to which Graham replied with a nod of his head. “It does not translate well across…across language.”

“It doesn’t translate?” Belle felt a frisson of disappointment at being left out. “Oh, ok. That’s ok. Maybe when your English is even better you could tell me a joke?”

Rumple smiled and caught one of her hands, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Yes, I will.” She heard Graham cough and the squeak of his chair as he busied himself with something.

“You really have made remarkable progress in such a short time, Rumple.” Archie’s voice startled her; she’d forgotten he was there the moment she felt Rumple’s touch. She slid her hand from Rumple’s but not before giving one last squeeze of her fingers.

“I have a great teacher,” Rumple rejoined, pointing to Graham. “Very kind and he,” he scrunched up his face, “ah, waits…no, no, _patient_.” Rumple snapped his fingers, grinning. “He is patient.”

Belle giggled and Rumple looked at her, his soft brown eyes warm. “Sweet Belle is patient, too.”

He’d taken to calling her that ever since Graham taught him the word. She secretly loved it but a small part of her was a little wary at the speed at which things were going. There were still too many unknowns surrounding his arrival and they needed to focus on revealing what they could.

They still had only a hazy idea of how he got there and no notion of how to return him, if there even was a way. Ruby’s book would hopefully shed light on the strange situation but Belle knew deep down that once they’d solved the first puzzle, the demand to send him back would shortly follow.

Her heart clenched at the thought and she turned from the group, lest she give herself away and upset Rumple. Archie took her spot and with it the opportunity to chat with Rumple for a moment more, giving her a few seconds to breathe and force down the sudden anguish. She heard Rumple made a little quip that had the other two men laughing and her fragile composure nearly broke.

If they found a way to get him back, they would have to take it. His child was still in the past, likely sad and scared without his father, and they deserved to be reunited if there was any way to do so.

But how was she ever going to let him go?


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

_The next day..._

Rumple gazed out the window of his room, watching the wind ripple across the grassy hills as nature tried in vain to let a little sun through the grey sky. He shifted his weight to take pressure off his bad ankle as he stood, grateful for the clever trick of the shortened walking stick—Graham called it a cane—that helped him more equally balance himself while upright.

So many changes were happening around him, quick as the wind that whipped through the grass. Rumple’s head was spinning. He let the other folks there carry him along on their ideas, trying like hell to trust that he was in safe hands. Belle’s hands. Regardless of the others, he felt in his soul that he was safe with her.

English was a complicated and fascinating language but his mind took to it quicker than he expected. It helped that speaking to Belle was suddenly much easier. It was well and good to communicate with her using his body but he wanted to share her thoughts and know what she was like inside.

His mouth curved in a secret smile. Kissing her, holding her, was a revelation and a pleasure he refused to deny himself in this strange place that wasn’t his. She was warm and willing and so beautiful, so sweet.

His smile dropped, though, at the rush of worry and guilt that came when the joy of her threatened to crowd out thoughts of Baelfire. What an awful father he was to let himself be so distracted. It wasn’t Belle’s fault, of course, but his own for letting anything stand in the way of getting back to his son.

His heart had been transformed into two warring halves fighting for dominance and the pain threatened to drive him mad. How could he be so achingly torn between two worlds and survive the battle with his soul intact? His son, his precious boy, more dear to him than his own life, should be the only thing he saw, the only thing he lived for. Why was Belle taking up space that should belong to Bae?

He scowled, self-loathing and resentment mingling in a nasty stew inside his mind. He had to get out, to breathe fresh air. Hopefully, a walk would clear his mind.

He moved to the doorway, fully intending to make his way outside and damn anyone’s interference, but was stopped by the entrance of Belle, nearly colliding with her in his distraction. The sight of her shook him, his resentment melting into the sadness and guilt already threatening to drown him.

“Rumple, what’s wrong?”

He shook his head, unwilling to meet her eyes lest she see any remnants of his horrid thoughts. Shame rolled through him and he felt his lower lip begin to tremble. But, somehow, Belle—sweet, kind Belle—simply _understood_. She slid a warm hand into his.

“Do you want to go for a walk outside?”

Rumple nodded, the weight of unshed tears and overwhelming emotions threatening to break him.

“Yes.”

The breeze lifted Rumple’s hair, the pleasant coolness easing him and bringing with it a particular kind of calm he only felt when out of doors.

He scanned the horizon around him, his eyes skipping across the rolling green hills and the odd boulders dotted here and there. Off in the distance, he could see the top of a craggy formation, likely jutting up from the ground. Was that the cave in which he was found?

He began to move toward the crop of jagged rocks, his limping strides purposeful. He heard Belle jump at his quickness but she followed on his heels all the same.

“What’s going on?”

Rumple shook his head, unable to explain his driving need to move toward the rocks. “I need to see something.”

They walked for several minutes until the cave loomed up in front of them, large and imposing, a gaping maw erupting from the earth. Sharp-looking rock pierced the air like the half-buried beak of a great stone bird. He stopped before the entrance to scan the darkness within, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“What are you looking for?” Belle stopped beside him, her words slightly breathless. For his part, the walk had been brisk but nothing requiring exertion.

His eyes hunted through what little he could see. “I don’t—I don’t know.”

“I think do.” She slipped a hand into his once more.

Rumple turned to her, his frown deepening. “Do you? What then?”

Her forehead creased in worry. “Rumple—”

Rumple cut her off with a shake of his head, slipping his hand out of hers. He moved forward, taking a cautious step into the cave. Belle made to follow but he lifted a hand in a silent request for her to wait. Her mouth opened, likely to protest, but something in his face must have stopped her. She pressed her lips together and nodded.

He ventured deeper inside, the only sounds around him the tapping of the cane and the whistling of the wind at the cave’s mouth. It was an unremarkable structure, save for its size. He could see no drawings or markings on the walls to note it as special or significant in any way. They were bare save for a dull sort of dampness that clung to them from the humid, cold northern air. It smelled familiar, peaty with the slightest hint of woodsmoke, but otherwise as normal as any other natural formation.

The light from the entrance dimmed the deeper he went until it was nearly impossible for him to see where he was going. The ground sloped slightly and became increasingly slick, the butt of the cane sliding and trying to grip the slippery earth. He slowed his steps so as not to fall and injure himself.

He halted when the darkness became nearly impenetrable, grinding his cane into the floor, his breathing coming harder the longer he stood in the cold and damp.

He closed his eyes, his mouth twisting in sorrow as he murmured a desperate prayer. To the old gods, the new, to anyone in the heavens who would listen. He squeezed his eyes shut so tight that lights burst behind his lids and a sob escaped him as he languished without an answer.

His sob echoed around the recesses of the cave, bouncing back to him in a mockery of his despair, and more sobs escaped as he sunk down to the floor, heedless of the pain in his ankle as he hit the cold stone. The cane clattered next to him, the only sound to join the echo of his sobs as they bounced his pain and panic back to him in ghostly waves.

His heart beat fit to bursting, grief wrapping around the muscle and threatening to squeeze the life out of him. Anger gave his weeping an edge of rage and he howled the name of his son into the indifferent darkness engulfing him. The name ricocheted back to him, threatening to send him into madness, and he clapped his hands over his ears, his cries edging into screams as he curled into the fetal position, the damp sinking into his clothes and bones.

He had no idea how long he’d been on the cave floor when gentle, but firm hands grasped him, pulling him up and into a warm embrace.

“Rumple!”

He pushed against the arms that held him, shaking his head violently and begging to be sent back, _please, please just send me back_ , but the arms holding him were unyielding.

“It’s ok. Sweetheart, it’s _ok_. You’re with me.” Belle’s voice penetrated his fog of rage and grief and gave Rumple an anchor back to reality. Soft hands pushed his hair back from his face. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.” Her arms curled securely around him. “You’re safe.”

“ _Bae_.” He sobbed into her chest as she cradled him, his grip desperate, nearly clawing as he fought against the torrent of grief.

“I know, Rumple.” She squeezed him tighter in response. Rumple shoved away the thread of shame that crept into his consciousness as he burrowed deeper into her enveloping warmth. Warm drops began to fall on his face and he realized with a start that they were Belle’s tears. Her crying tore at him, widening the burning gash from the loss of his son that much further. He shifted, nearly crawling up her to wrap his arms around her properly and they clung to each other, his chest pressed against hers in a vain effort to staunch his bleeding heart.

She stroked his hair with one hand, the other in a death grip around his waist and he buried his face in her hair as he gave in to the pain.

* * *

After some time had passed, Belle was able to calm Rumple enough to get them both back to the compound. The walk back was slower, and Belle knew Rumple’s time in the cave had drained him emotionally to the point of near-collapse.

She managed to get Rumple into bed, tucking him in and stroking his hair until he fell into an exhausted, fitful sleep.

She desperately wanted to crawl into his bed and hold him but forced herself to settle for sitting at his side. Anxious, she watched over him, his face in a slight grimace even as he rested.

She let out a heavy sigh, rubbing her hands over her face. A fresh round of tears pricked her eyelids and she fought against a swell of sorrow and guilt. He was suffering and she knew deep down the longer he stayed, the worse it would get.

The idea that she might have contributed to his misery filled her with shame and disgust. She pushed up out of the chair, pacing as she tried to master the panic. She wondered angrily where the hell everyone else was. She turned and stomped to the door, the only thing stopping her from flinging it wide the knowledge that Rumple needed his sleep. She slipped into the hallway and closed the door as quietly as she could before storming down the hall.

What the hell was wrong with all of them? What the hell was wrong with _her?_ How could she have been so selfish?

She found the lot of them in the kitchen, Graham seated next to Ruby with that large book of hers open on the table in front of them while Archie was in quiet conversation with Regina off by the sink.

Her anger deflated a bit to see them gathered like that, and a few seconds of observation told her they were working on a solution to their problem. Ruby’s brow was furrowed and she and Graham nearly had their heads touching as they pored over the pages of the book, flipping back and forth and debating points. Archie looked to be enumerating a theory to Regina who had an uncharacteristically patient look on her face. 

This was her team, her family. They would help make this right however they could and lobbing rage born of fear at them wasn’t fair. Still, a conversation needed to be had.

Belle pressed her lips into a thin line, trying to find a way to get Regina’s attention without drawing that of the whole group. Ruby noticed her before she had a chance to speak.

“Oh, hey! What’s up, Belle?” She smiled. The others looked up at Belle.

“Hey, Rubes.” She forced a smile then turned. “Regina,” she pointed back towards the hallway, “can I talk to you, please?”

Regina scanned her face for a moment before nodding. She following Belle into the hall, crossing her arms and looking at Belle expectantly. Belle closed the door and turned to regard her boss.

“Well?” Regina asked. “What’s going on?”

Belle twisted her hands together for a moment as she tried to find the right words.

“Has any progress been made on how to get Rumple back?” Belle already knew the answer. She was complicit in the answer. And it hadn’t been until she followed the sound of Rumple’s desperate, grief-stricken howls into the bowels of the cave and found him sobbing on the ground that she realized how hard he was working to be brave.

Regina’s brow furrowed, sympathy clear on her face.

“Not yet, but we will.” She reached out a hand, giving Belle’s shoulder a squeeze. “Give it time.”

Belle sighed, crossing her arms. “I don’t think we _have_ time. I-I think getting him back needs to be our top priority going forward.” She tightened her arms around herself, trying not to cry. “The longer we keep him here, the harder it gets for him.”

Regina shot her a look and Belle bit her lip, glancing away.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Belle?”

Belle sighed. “I just think—Rumple is heading quickly for a very bad turn if we don’t figure out how to send him back. And soon.”

Regina raised her eyebrows. “And what if we can’t find a way to send him back?”

“We have to.” Belle shook her head. “Regina, we have to. He can’t be stuck here forever.”

“Belle—what you’re asking…” Regina trailed off and Belle closed her eyes against a fresh wave of guilt, taking a deep breath as she prepared to tell Regina what happened.

“Rumple and I took a walk to the cave where we found him,” she said. “He went in by himself, all but disappeared, while I stayed at the entrance. I only went after him when he—”

She stopped, the words sticking in her throat. Rumple’s breakdown in the cave was private and none of anyone’s business but theirs. It was a betrayal to reveal it.

“He what, Belle?”

She chose a different path. “He wants his son,” she continued quietly. “He _needs_ his son. He wants to go back to his child--and we’ve all forgotten that.” She looked up at Regina, not bothering to fight the tears pricking her eyes, and jabbed an accusing finger at herself. “ _I_ forgot that.

“Oh, Belle,” Regina said, placing gentle hands on her shoulders and looking directly into her eyes. “He was frozen seven hundred years ago. His son is long gone.”

“Not back in his time.” Belle sniffed, shaking her head. “His son is still alive as far as he’s concerned. Alive and all alone.”

Regina let out a gently reproving scoff. “Honey, that doesn’t make any sense. Time marches forward. Much as we’d like to go back and change things, we just can’t.”

“Are—are you telling me we should give up?” Belle searched Regina’s face and Regina sighed.

“No. I am saying we need to be realistic about the outcome.” Regina gestured to the kitchen. “Some of the most brilliant minds I’ve ever met are gathered under one roof, trying to figure this out. If anyone can do this, it’s that motley crew of geniuses right there. But the fact remains that we’re basically researching time travel.” She let out a disbelieving chuckle. “It might take us a minute to figure it out.”

“But we’ll try, right?” Belle’s lower lip began to tremble. “I need to do this for him.”

Regina made a soft sound of distress before pulling Belle into a firm hug.

“Yes. We’ll try.”


End file.
